He guessed that the firing squad that had
been meant for him was putting up a stiff struggle; later he knew it.
Then abruptly it was all over. There was no sound save the groans of
wounded men. The firing ceased, and with it the fierce shouts of those
who had invaded the garden at that most critical of moments. Fred
realized afterward that he must have fainted, for when next he could see
and hear, there was a faint light in the sky. He was aroused by the
moving of the heavy weight of von Glahn's body, and looked up to see a
bearded man, small and wiry, in a rough sheepskin coat, who grinned down
at him.
"Not hurt, eh, comrade?" said this man in Russian. He seemed surprised
when Fred answered in his own tongue, and started back. But he had
pushed the body of the German captain away, and Fred rose to his feet a
little unsteadily. It was a wild, strange scene upon which his eyes
rested. All about the place where he had lain the ground was covered
with evidences of a furious struggle. Nearly a score of Germans lay
about, dead. Among them were half a dozen Cossacks, and over one of
these stood a riderless horse, muzzling his master's body inquisitively.
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