You owe them no allegiance; besides, you are in our power.
Tell me, and I will let you go."
"Your bribe is wasted on me. I am a British officer--"
"Pshaw! Officer?" and the fellow raised his whip to strike McKay, but
happily held his hand.
"Here! take him back," he said angrily, and McKay was again placed in
the midst of the party.
He renewed his entreaties for a drink, and a Cossack, taking pity on
him, offered him a canteen.
It was full of _vodkhi_, an ardent spirit beloved by the Russian
peasant, half-a-dozen drops of which McKay managed to gulp down, but
they nearly burned his throat.
"Water! water!" he asked again.
And the Cossack, evidently surprised at his want of taste, substituted
the simpler fluid; but the charitable act drew down upon him the
displeasure of his chief.
"How dare you! without my permission?" cried the officer, as he dashed
the water from McKay's lips, and punished the offending Cossack by a
few sharp strokes with his whip.
"Come, fall in!" the officer next said. "It won't do to linger here."
And the party resumed their ride, still in the valley, but as far as
possible from the stream.
Every yard McKay's hopes sank lower and lower; every yard took him
further from his friends, who were advancing, he felt certain, towards
the river.
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