"I give him _greggo_ and cap: you put them on when you like."
McKay knew that he could only pass the British sentries openly,
showing his uniform as a staff officer, so he made the guide carry the
clothes, and the two pressed forward together through Kadikoi, towards
the formidable line of works that now covered Balaclava.
He skirted the flank of one of the redoubts, and, passing beyond the
intrenchments, came at length to our most advanced posts, a line of
cavalry vedettes, stationed at a considerable distance apart.
"I am one of the headquarter staff," he said, briefly, to the sergeant
commanding the picket, "and have to make a short reconnaissance
towards Kamara. You understand?"
"Are we to support you, sir?"
"No; but look out for my coming back. It may not be till daybreak, but
it will be as well, perhaps, to tell your men who I am, and to expect
me. I don't want to be shot on re-entering our own lines."
"Never fear, sir, so long as we know. I will tell the officer, and
make it all right."
McKay now rode slowly on, his guide at his horse's head. They kept in
the valleys, already, as night was now advancing, deep in shade, and
their figures, which could have been clearly made out against the sky
if on the upper slopes, were nearly invisible on the lower ground.
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