The Red, White, and Green Part 65

I was rus.h.i.+ng to the door when the man, as if in desperation, seized a piece of rope which lay in the corner and flung himself before me.

Thinking he meant mischief, I touched my sword; but his action was the effect of fear.

"My lord," he cried, "we shall be murdered. Have mercy, for the sake of Heaven, and bind us. Then they will know that we harboured the 'poor lads' unwillingly."

"You have a kind face, my sweet master," added the trembling woman; "may your heart match it."

I thought the proposed stratagem a clumsy one; but the poor people were in such deadly earnest that I took the rope and proceeded to tie the woman.

In the midst of it the door was flung open violently, and quick as thought I drew my pistol and covered the intruder.

It was the outlaw, who had come to seek me.

"Well," cried he; "of all the fools!" Then, checking himself, he got another coil of rope and bound the inn-keeper deftly.

"One makes more," said he, finis.h.i.+ng as soon as I. "Come on. There's no time for philanthropy. The men are howling with impatience, and Count Beula's nearly off his head."

The band was mounted, and one of them at his leader's command had saddled my horse.

They looked a rough set with their lances and loaded axes and la.s.sos, which they carried before them on their saddles.

The chief sprang into his seat; I followed suit, and off we went--Count Beula well to the fore.

I looked down the road, expecting to see the Austrians; but, thanks to Batori's sentries, we had fully two minutes' start before they appeared.

There were perhaps fifty of them, and they rode like men secure of their prey; but our horses were fresh, and, being all picked animals, easily increased their lead.

A pistol shot or two came singing after us, but without doing mischief, and Batori laughed derisively at the enemy's efforts.

"Take it easy, my lads," he shouted. "Those old screws wouldn't catch us between this and Debreczin, if we walked all the way."

This, of course, was not exactly correct; but there could be little doubt that, by putting our animals to their utmost speed, we could shake off our pursuers at almost any time.

Even Beula noticed this, and, though his face was still pale, he dropped back to us.

"Another miss of the halter, count," cried the brigand cheerfully; "you're in luck's way. But I'll tell you what it is--you set my men a very bad example;" and I fancied there was a note of anger in his voice.

The count shook off his strange fear for a moment, saying with some of his old jauntiness, "They are more familiar with the noose than I."

"Bah!" cried the robber in disgust; "if you had not gained praise from Bern, I should say you were a rank coward."

"As a bandit, perhaps I am," he replied; a remark at which Batori, instead of showing anger, only laughed.

That Count Beula could on occasion be brave as a lion I already knew, and he was yet to give me another proof.

We were, as I have said, distancing the cavalry in our rear, when a loud shout proclaimed a new and more serious danger.

The Austrians, by dividing their forces, had cleverly placed us between two fires.

A second body, instead of entering the village, had worked round to the right, and now debouched into the road in front of us; while their comrades, who had purposely held their horses back, dashed up at full speed.

The robber chief took in the situation at a glance.

"Trapped!" said he; "and in the very worst place. Smart fellow, that Austrian."

At the certainty of a desperate fight Count Beula lost his paleness.

His face glowed with healthy excitement; he looked round on the band of brigands as if he were leading a regiment.

At the first sight of the enemy we had, almost without thinking, slackened our pace, and now Batori halted us altogether.

Riding to the front, he turned to his men.

"My lads," said he, "we're in a hole; but it isn't the first. You know what happens on these occasions. Those who get out will ride with me again; those who don't--" And he concluded with a pantomimic gesture which made Beula shudder.

"Elijen Batori!" shouted the bandits, and their leader smiled.

The Austrians in the rear were spurring hard; but we took no notice of them, our attention being fixed on those in front. Could we break them?

I had taken part in more than one cavalry charge against long odds, and to me the feat seemed impossible.

Batori, however, showed little anxiety; while his men were almost as cool as he was.

Sword in hand, Count Beula took his place on the right of the leader; I rode at his left.

There were no unnecessary orders. Every man knew he had to pierce that body of cavalry somehow, or be hanged to the nearest tree; and if the knowledge did not bring true courage, it at least sent every one into the fight with a determination to get through.

The bandits couched their lances, and dug their spurs deeply into the horses' sides. Batori, who was evidently a superb horseman, rode without using the reins, having a sword in one hand and a loaded pistol in the other.

The Austrians bided their time; and, as we drew nearer, it flashed into my mind that their leader, who, but for a terrible scar across his face, would have been a handsome man, was none other than my old opponent, Von Theyer.

There was likely to be a very short shrift for me if I fell into his hands; and, unfortunately, my uniform rendered me conspicuous. However, I had little time to think about what might happen; I was too much engaged in what was happening.

Count Beula struck the enemy first, and, but for a shot from Batori's pistol, that moment would have ended his career. I wished later it had.

Crash we went into the midst of them, the long lances boring a pa.s.sage for their owners.

Von Theyer made a dash at me, but was thrown back; and we did not get within sword-arm of each other during the fight.

Still, I had ample work without troubling the Austrian leader, as several hussars, attracted no doubt by my uniform, made a desperate attempt to hem me in.

A loud cry announced that one man had got through.

It was Batori; but he dashed back into the _melee_ in order to rescue a wounded follower.

His men, raised to the highest pitch of enthusiasm by this sight, shook their opponents off and spurred to the spot.

A young Austrian officer--a sublieutenant, I judged--rode at me furiously, leaving me barely time to parry his stroke.

Turning, he came again, when a terrific blow from a loaded hatchet brought his horse to the ground--dead.