The idea of abandoning a friend, and much more one who had come to mean so much to him as did Boris, seemed terrible to Fred. And yet it was impossible for him to refute Boris’s argument.  His cousin was right.  And now he could hear the voices of approaching men.  Naturally, if the Germans on the culvert thought that a car containing two German officers had been wrecked, they would come to the rescue.  There was no time to be lost.

“I suppose you’re right, Boris,” he said, with a groan.  “But it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!  But it is so.  It would make it worse for you if I stayed.  That’s the only reason I’ll go, though!  You believe that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” said Boris.  “Haven’t you proved what sort you are, when you risked your life to try to help me to get away at the parsonage?  Go!  Hurry!  Get this coat and helmet off me!”

So Fred set to work.  He had to move Boris to get the coat off, and the Russian groaned with the pain of his broken leg.  Fred dared not wait, now that he had made up his mind to fly, even to see the extent of the injury, much less to apply first aid.  Had there been time, he might have made Boris comfortable, for, like all well trained Boy Scouts, he understood the elementary principles of bandaging and had made more than one temporary setting in splints for broken bones.  But he knew that the Germans would be there in a minute or two, and he had no reason to suppose that they would lack common humanity.  They would care for Boris.  Probably they had a surgeon back at the culvert, or fairly near at hand, at any rate.

“Get off the road,” said Boris, gritting his teeth.  “My head is swimming, and I’m afraid I’m going to faint or do some such foolish thing!  But don’t stay in the road.  They’re sure to go along, looking for you.”

Fred had reasoned that out for himself.  And now, when he had rolled up Boris’s coat and helmet into a bundle, he leaped a narrow ditch and plunged into a thick mass of bushes.  He did not know the country here, and had no notion of what sort of cover he might find.  But luck was with him though for a moment he thought he had stumbled into a disastrous predicament.  The ground gave way beneath him suddenly and he felt himself falling.  He relaxed instinctively, and came down on hands and knees on a mass of leaves and twigs.  He had fallen into a sort of shallow pit, but deep enough to shelter him.  It seemed to him to be like a deadfall, such as he knew trappers sometimes make.  The place was ideal for such a use, but now no steel-jawed trap yawned for him.  And it was only a moment before he realized that this was just the hiding-place for him—­and one, moreover, for which he himself might have searched in vain.

“They’ll never look for me as near the wreck as this,” he said to himself.  “They’ll spread out probably, but I think I’ll be safe here.  As safe as anywhere, and it will give me a chance to find out what’s happening, too.”