by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER XVI.
THROUGH FIRE AND WATER.
And now whither? That was the anxious query of the deserting squadronof hussars.
On one side was the whole army, from among whose banners they hadwrested their own; on the other were two rivers, the Danube and theMarch, and beyond them a mountain range, the Carpathians.
For an hour and a half they followed a bridle-path through the fields,knowing only that they were riding toward the Danube. Then the skybegan to clear, and they were able to determine their position moreexactly. On the right lay the river like a dark mirror under thescurrying clouds.
"Now, boys," said Richard, when he had his men all before him, "wehave begun a march which will take us either home or to destruction. Ihave to warn you--what you know well enough already--that we are aboutto face every sort of peril and hardship. We must ride day and nightwithout a halt, swim rivers, climb mountains, bear hunger, thirst,and want of sleep, and be prepared to fight for our lives at everystep. He who faints by the way is lost; he will be taken prisoner andshot. I ask no man to follow me. I shall go ahead without turning backto see how many of my two hundred and twenty men are behind me. Irequire no oath of you. It is dark, and whoever chooses to turn backmay do so when I start to lead the way; but when the sun rises, letall who are with me then understand that they are thenceforward undermilitary discipline, and bound to obey my orders without murmur orcomplaint. Now then, follow me who will! This is the first test."
The first test was calculated to make the faint-hearted, if such therewere, shrink with fear. The Danube was to be forded. Richard wasfamiliar with the region from his earlier military manA"uvres, and heknew the river's shoals and bars. For him and his old hussars it wasmere play to cross the stream without bridge or ferry; but the lessexperienced might well fear to breast its waters in the dark,encumbered as they were with their arms.
A young poplar grove received the horsemen on the farther side, andhere their leader caused them to be counted by the sergeant-major.
"Two hundred and twenty," reported that officer, after completing thecount.
"Impossible!" exclaimed Richard; "we left two men behind assentinels."
"Here we are!" sounded a familiar bass, which was at once recognisedas old Paul's.
"That you, Paul? How did you overtake us so soon, and what news fromthe camp?"
"The cuirassiers broke camp and made for the city, as if on purpose toleave us a clear field; and so I said: 'What's the use of standingguard here any longer? Come, brother, let's after the rest!'"
"And was there no sign of an alarm?"
"No, sir; everything was as still as a mouse."
"Good! Now all form a square around me."
The hussars obeyed the order, falling in about their captain in closedranks. In the east a faint light was beginning to mark the horizonline.
Two hundred and twenty men, gathered together in that quiet grove,swore blind obedience to their commander and fearless execution of hisorders until they should see their homes once more. When the sunshowed itself like a fiery dome on the horizon, they saw that thestandard they were to follow was the familiar tricolour.
"We have half a day's start of our pursuers," said Richard to his men."The first to discover our flight will be Otto Palvicz, the cuirassiermajor. When he has followed our trail so far, he will see that we havecrossed the river. He can't cross here with his heavy cavalry, butwill be obliged to turn back to the floating bridge. By pushing onuntil late to-night, we shall escape all danger of his overtaking us.So much for our first day's work."
Richard then divided his store of ready money among his followers, andimpressed upon them that they were not, under any circumstances, toplunder and rob, but were to pay for all provisions consumed.
Emerging from the poplar grove, the hussars struck into a bridle-pathwhich led them to a castle owned by a Czechic magnate, who was at thattime away from home; but his wife gave Richard an audience, with theresult that his men received each a drink of brandy, with some breadand smoked meat, while hay and oats were furnished for their horses.Richard also obtained from the good lady a map which showed every roadand bridle-path as far as the Moravian and Hungarian borders. This mapproved afterward indispensable to the fugitives.
They rested at the Czechic magnate's castle for two hours, when aguide conducted them to the next forest and left them to pursue theirway farther. In the depth of the woods the shades of an autumnafternoon closed in on the riders at an early hour. Richard led theway through ravines and over mountains. Reaching an elevated spot ofground that commanded a view of the surrounding country, he had hisattention called by old Paul to the beacon-fires visible in thegathering darkness on the distant mountain-tops.
"Those are for our benefit," said Captain Baradlay.
The fires were warning signals of the fugitives' flight, and they soonbegan to appear not only in the rear, but also on the summits ahead ofthe riders. Thus the whole country as far as the border was aroused tointercept them. By the light of a newly kindled beacon in their rearRichard could see, through his field-glass, that a body of horsemenwas already in hot pursuit.
"They are on our trail much sooner than I expected," said he, "and wehave not a moment to waste."
Hoping to elude pursuit, he chose a path leading through a deep ravinewhich he well remembered from his hunting expeditions. It formed apart of an Austrian noble's estate. A mountain stream flowed throughthis ravine, its waters being dammed at one place to form a largemill-pond and a fishing basin, and also to supply necessary irrigationat certain seasons. Richard's hastily formed plan was to push on pastthe mill and open the sluices on his way, thus flooding the narrowvalley and cutting off his pursuers, who were seen to be OttoPalvicz's heavy cavalry.
One contingency, however, had not occurred to him, namely, that thetrick he intended to play on Otto Palvicz might be played by some oneelse on himself. At a turn in the ravine not far from the mill, Paulcame galloping back with the advance-guard and reported that the wholevalley ahead was under water. The miller had told him that the dam hadbeen opened only a short time before by the forester. It had evidentlybeen done to cut off the hussars.
Richard spurred forward to the mill. Only a narrow dike offered apassage across the ravine, and even this dike had been destroyed for aspace of several yards, leaving only the piles projecting from thewater.
"Never mind," said Richard, nothing dismayed by the prospect; "go andbring two or three doors from the mill and lay them on the piles toform a bridge."
The order was promptly executed, but the horses refused to cross onthis improvised structure.
"They are afraid because it is white," said Paul.
"Cover it with mud," commanded Richard.
"That won't do," objected the old hussar, "because then we can't burnit behind us."
"Right, Paul; we must set it on fire as soon as we are over. Perhapswe can find some tar in the mill."
A whole barrel of tar was discovered after some search, and a portionof it poured over the bridge. Now, however, the horses were morerecalcitrant than before; their hoofs slipped on the tarred boards,and the hollow sound given back by the frail bridge served toincrease their fear.
Old Paul swore like a heathen. "Here we are caught in a pretty trap,"said he.
"Oh, no," replied Richard, reassuringly. "We two must dismount, andone of us lead the horses by the bridle while the other urges them onfrom behind. The riders will stay in their saddles."
It was a task, indeed, to get all the rearing, plunging, andthoroughly frightened animals, one after another, over the shakybridge. The riders cursed, old Paul invoked all the saints in thecalendar, and Richard plied his whip with an unsparing hand, until, atlast, the passage was accomplished. It had been attended with so muchnoise, however, that no human ear within miles around could havefailed to hear it.
Before long a signal-fire blazed up on the hill from which thefugitives had noted the beacon-lights. Thus far, then, their pursuershad track
ed them, and no doubt they would be about their ears in a fewminutes. Richard and Paul were bathed in perspiration, and there werestill thirty led horses to be driven over the bridge.
"I hear a trumpet behind us," said one of the men; "wouldn't it bebest to leave the extra horses and each man look out for himself?"
"No," said Richard; "there must not be a single horse left behind.Let no one ride on until every horse is over."
His order was obeyed, and not a man stirred from the spot until allthe reserve horses were across the bridge. By that time the trumpetnotes were very near, and the white mantles of the pursuing horsemencould be discerned in the darkness. Richard gave Paul a whisperedorder, whereupon the old hussar disappeared with two companions. Thenthe bridge was heaped with dry brushwood, the rest of the tar pouredover it, and the whole set on fire. As the flames shot upward the oneband of horsemen could see the other, face to face. Richard swunghimself into his saddle, and ordered his men to move forward,carefully, over the narrow dike and down the ravine. He himselfremained behind until all had preceded him.
The cuirassiers did not reach the mill in a body, having becomegreatly scattered in the course of their hot pursuit. Otto Palvicz,however, was in the lead, his full-blooded stallion being best able tostand the strain of the twenty hours' continuous chase. With him werebut a score of his men, and there was no telling how long the othersmight be in joining him; yet he spurred his horse on as if he wouldhave crossed the burning bridge. The animal, however, would not bedriven into the fire.
"Captain Richard Baradlay!" shouted Palvicz.
"Here I am, Major Otto Palvicz," came back the answer.
"Surrender yourself my prisoner!"
"Come over and get me!"
"I will, all in good time, you may depend upon it."
"But not to-night."
"Yes, to-night. I sha'n't halt till I have caught you."
"But you can't cross the broken dike."
"It won't delay us more than an hour. By that time we shall be acrossand at your heels again. You can't escape me."
"We'll see about that."
During this dialogue a rushing of water became audible from thedirection of the fish-pond, and Otto Palvicz noticed that an addedflood was pouring through the break in the dike and widening therupture.
"I have had the fish-pond sluices raised," said Richard, "and you willhardly fill in this gap in an hour's time."
Otto Palvicz saw that the other was right. "I see that I cannot crossimmediately," he admitted; "but if you are a cavalier, stay where youare and let us fight it out over fire and water. Will you join me in apistol duel?"
"With all my heart."
"We will fire at each other until one of us falls from his horse."
"Agreed; but first let our men get out of range. Why shoot down ourbrave lads instead of each other?"
"You are right," assented Otto, and he ordered his men to stand aside.
The two leaders stood facing each other across the burning bridge,whose flames furnished a bright light for a nocturnal duel. Each worea white cavalry cloak, an excellent target for his opponent's aim.
They exchanged a couple of shots. Palvicz pierced Richard's shako, hehimself receiving a shot in the cuirass which left a dent.
"Load again!" cried Otto.
But at that moment the water from the fish-pond, whose sluices hadbeen thrown wide open by old Paul, came rushing over the dike in sucha volume as entirely to submerge the burning bridge and leave theduellists in darkness. Indeed, they were forced to seek safety fromthe rising flood in precipitate flight.
"To-morrow we'll at it again," called out the cuirassier major.
"I'll be with you," answered the captain of hussars.
What had been a fiery Phlegethon before, now became an inky Styx,likely to delay the pursuers for half a day. Meanwhile the fugitiveshad only to push on as rapidly as possible. The whole region, however,was aroused, and in the first village they reached they could get noprovisions for themselves or fodder for their horses.
"You are deserters and bent on mischief," the people said to them, andthey were forced to ride on with their hunger unabated.
Coming to a bridge, they were met by a rude company of rustic militia,armed with scythes.
"Shall we do as we did at the St. Bridget Convent?" the hussars askedtheir captain.
"No, that is out of the question here," was the reply; "we must avoida fight with the peasantry."
He well knew that a couple of volleys from their pistols would havecleared the bridge; but he chose instead to make a dA(C)tour that costthem two hours of precious time, being resolved to avoid all bloodsheduntil he should reach his own country.
And still not a bite to eat. Everything eatable was hidden on theirapproach. Toward noon, however, they came to a little inn where theyobtained a loaf of bread and a little brandy. Richard himself cut upthe loaf into as many pieces as there were men, and served it out tohis followers as if it had been the Lord's supper. A mouthful of breadand a swallow of brandy,--that was their dinner.
In the afternoon they reached a second mill, and here the miller wasin the act of grinding some buckwheat. Eldorado! A feast fit forLucullus! Stirabout for every man, a bellyful! True, neither drippingnor bacon was to be had; but never mind; it would taste so good evenwithout.
The hussars unsaddled their horses, and, while some of the men turnedblacksmiths and looked to the shoeing of their steeds, the rest betookthemselves to the kitchen, where, in an immense kettle hanging overthe fire, something was being cooked with much stirring and pouring inof water, until the whole was of a uniform and proper consistency. Thetechnical name of this dish is "stirabout."
Meanwhile Richard had stationed outposts to guard against a surprisefrom the enemy.
When the mush was done, a pole was put through the handle of thekettle, twelve cavalry cloaks were spread out on the grass, and onthem the steaming food, which would not have tempted even a wolf'shunger in its then scalding condition, was served with a great woodenspoon. But just as the banqueters were about to sit down around thewhite cloaks which did duty as table-cloths and plates in one, theoutposts came running in with the cry: "The cuirassiers are coming!"
To saddle and mount, first folding up the cloaks, stirabout and all,and throwing them over the pommels, was the work of a moment. Therewas not even time to take one taste of the savoury mess before themen were up and away as fast as their horses could carry them. Withoutpausing to choose his path, Richard galloped across country, overstock and stubble, taking care only to hold his horse's head towardthe east, and spurring on his headlong flight until the sweat ran fromthe animal's flanks.
"We shall kill all our horses," remarked old Paul, as he pressed hardafter his master and glanced back at the ragged line of cavalry behindhim. Some of the horses, indeed, broke down under this terrific pace,whereupon the extra mounts were brought into service. It was well theyhad not been left behind at the mill-dam.
The pursuers were in no better plight. On the highway it had been easyfor them to overtake the fugitives, as the latter were forced to makenumerous dA(C)tours; but when they took to the ploughed fields it was adifferent matter. Richard had been right in his reckoning; in the softand spongy soil the heavy cuirassiers could proceed only at a walk,while the hussars were able to push forward at a trot.
Richard fell back and remained in the rear to hold all his mentogether, and when any of them met with an accident he was prompt tolend his aid. Thus he again came within earshot of Otto Palvicz.Glancing back from time to time, he allowed the cuirassier major tocome near enough to make conversation possible.
"Stop a moment; I want to speak to you," called Palvicz.
"I can hear you very well as I am," answered Baradlay.
"If you are a brave man, don't run away from me like that."
"I am brave enough to run away so that you'll never catch me."
"That is cowardice. You are showing me your back."
"I shall have a look at you
rs one of these days."
"Will you stop and fight with me?"
"No; while we fought your men would overtake mine."
"They will do that in any case. Do you see yonder line of willows?Just beyond it lies the March."
"I know that."
"You will be stopped by the river."
"The Danube did not stop us."
This dialogue was carried on very comfortably by the two riders, whowere distant from each other only three horse's lengths, an intervalwhich Richard took good care not to let his pursuer diminish.
On reaching the willows that marked the course of the March, thehussars halted.
"See there," cried Palvicz; "your men don't dare take the plunge."
"I'll make them change their minds in a moment," answered the other.
"Are you mad? Both riders and horses will meet their death if you leadthem, heated as they are, into the ice-cold water."
"If they meet their death I shall share the same fate."
So saying, Richard put spurs to his horse and galloped forward,Palvicz close at his heels. Presently they came to a stretch of turfwhere their two noble steeds had a good footing. Palvicz was only twohorse's lengths behind when Richard climbed the willow-coveredriver-bank. The hussar officer had two seconds to spare. He used oneof them to survey the danger from which his men were recoiling. TheMarch was swollen by the autumn rains, and its foaming, turbid waterswent racing by in an angry tumult. The next moment he called to hismen to follow him, and sprang from the high bank into the flood, whilehis pursuer drew rein with a cry of astonishment. An instant laterhorse and rider came again to the surface of the water, which hadclosed foaming over their heads, and Richard called to his enemy witha laugh: "Now follow me if you can!"
At that the whole squadron of hussars plunged with a deafening shoutinto the boiling current, and followed their leader. Otto Palviczstood looking at them in amazement as they battled with the waves andperhaps he was even moved with fear lest the gallant band should cometo grief. But they all, to a man, gained the farther bank, unharmed bytheir icy bath; they were rather refreshed and invigorated by it. Thecuirassiers, however, did not venture after them. Their leader wasforced to desist from further pursuit.
"We shall meet again, Baradlay," he shouted across the river.
"All right; any time you please," returned Richard.
Dripping water at every step, and soaked to the skin, the hussarscontinued their journey. It was well for them that they did not pauseeven for a breathing-spell in their wet condition: the cold autumn airwould have served them an ill turn had they done so.
A meadow lay before them, in which the horses sank to their fetlocksin the mud. Yet it was a matter of stern necessity to push on. Boththe leader and his followers knew that unless men and horses foundfood and shelter that night, they would all be likely to perish. Fortwo days and nights they had not closed their eyes, and a good night'ssleep, with one full meal, seemed indispensable if they were to gainstrength for what yet lay before them.
"If the good God would only lead us to a village!" was the prayer ofmany a young hussar. But their prayers met with an ill response. Theyhad prayed for some snug little village, and they came to a cityinstead. Gaining a hilltop, they suddenly beheld in the valley beforethem a pretty town with six church-spires. Their prayer had been morethan answered. The town was girt with a wall, after the old Germancustom, and it seemed unwise to trust themselves within its embrace. Aroad led around it, to be sure, but was commanded by a high-walledbuilding that looked, to the experienced eye, suspiciously likecavalry barracks. A reconnoissance seemed hazardous where every eyewas on the watch for the fugitives; therefore, they were forced toretire to the woods they had just left, and wait for night. Yet theyfeared to tarry too long, well knowing that Palvicz would send amessenger across the river by boat to notify the garrison commander oftheir presence in the neighbourhood.
At nightfall the uncertainty of the hussars was dispelled. A buglesounded its familiar note from the barracks, and the horses pricked uptheir ears. That well-known "trarara trarara" had always meant to themthat their masters were bringing oats for the night and spreadingstraw for their beds. But no such good luck this time. The fanfare washeard four times,--once at each corner of the wall,--and when thetrumpets became silent a roll of drums followed. All this indicatedto the listeners that troops were quartered in the town.
To make a dA(C)tour and avoid both town and barracks was impossible;horses and riders would have perished in the swamp. But go on theymust in some way; it was out of the question to bivouac in the openair that cold autumn night. Yet which way were they to turn?
Possibly the reader may wonder that two hundred and twenty Hungarianhussars, those centaurs of modern mythology, should have even stoppedto ask such a question, so long as they held their good swords intheir hands. But consider, dear reader, that these hussars had notslept for two nights, or eaten anything since the preceding day; thattheir horses were worn out, their clothes wet through, and their limbschilled and stiffened by the autumn frost. Military men know only toowell how many battles have been lost because of empty stomachs. Many abrave army that has marched out as if to subdue the world has beenrouted in the end by a despised and inferior enemy, simply because thelatter had eaten a good dinner before the battle and the other sidehad not.
At last help came from an unexpected source,--from that cold andpenetrating dampness of which the shivering riders were so bitterlycomplaining. Such a dense mist arose and spread over the landscapethat one could not see twenty steps ahead.
"Now, boys," said Captain Baradlay, turning with satisfaction to hismen, "we will play a capital joke on yonder good people. Let every mantear up his saddle-cloth and bind his horse's hoofs with the rags;then we will start."
The men soon guessed his plan, and in a few minutes were ready forfurther orders. They left the woods and rode silently along thehighway, unable to see ahead, but each man following his nose. Not asoul was abroad at that time of night, all good citizens being longsince in bed and asleep.
Suddenly the night watch called the hour,--eleven; and then a lanternappeared and seemed to be drawing nearer. Advancing until they werewithin fifty paces of this light, they halted, and then the watchmancalled again: "Eleven o'clock and all's well!" If he saw the silentriders, he took them for ghosts wending their noiseless way throughthe mist. Here and there they passed a window that showed a candlestill burning. The dogs bayed at the mysteriously moving forms, andthe riders greatly feared the people would be aroused by theirbarking. The critical moment, however, was yet to come. Where the mainstreet left the town stood a little building for the receipt ofcustoms, and here, too, it was but natural to expect a guard. That onewas there soon became evident. When the hussars had approached withina few hundred paces of the spot, they heard the signal for changingthe watch, followed by the sound of approaching cavalry.
"It must be a whole troop," muttered Paul, as the steps drew near.
"They are coming straight toward us," whispered Richard. "Draw yourswords!"
There seemed no other course left them but to fight their way through.The advancing horsemen, however, were presently heard to turn asideand pass down another street. The danger was averted.
Richard now led his men forward in silence, and the whole squadronrode through the gateway and out of the town under the very nose ofthe sentry, who doubtless mistook the hussars in the darkness and mistfor his own comrades. Their number must have caused him some surprise;but by the time his suspicions were communicated to thesergeant-major, two hours later, and the matter reported to thecommandant an hour after that, Richard and his men were far on theirway.
"Now, my lads," said Richard, when that danger was safely past, "youmay light your pipes and undo the rags from your horses' hoofs."
The success of the ruse had put his men in the best of humours, andeven the horses seemed to share their riders' feelings; for theystruck out with as much spirit as if they had but just left theirsta
lls. The firm highway was such a relief to the riders, afterstruggling through bogs and marshes, that they made good progress. Atlength the road led up into the mountains, and when the sun rose theysaw before them, as the mist rolled away, the lofty peaks of theCarpathians, beyond which lay home and friends.
A mountain hamlet received the weary riders with friendly, welcome andsympathy. Old and young, men and women, all had a kind word for them,and hastened to throw open their houses and their granaries. Thehorses were soon standing knee-deep in hay, while the peasants lenttheir aid in shoeing such as needed to be shod, and in mending brokenharness. All that the good people had--and they were not people ofmuch means--was placed before the hungry men for their refreshment.
"Ah, this will be a different kind of dinner from yesterday's," saidone hussar to another, as they watched the preparations. But theirexultation was premature. Before the baking and boiling were halfdone, the outposts came galloping in, shouting that the pursuers werein sight.
The soldiers whom the hussars had so cunningly tricked the nightbefore were now bent on getting even with them. Infantry in wagons,and a troop of cavalry riding ahead, were making the best of their wayafter the fugitives. Nor, indeed, was it any remarkable achievement toovertake the weary hussars on their worn-out horses.
Again the order was given to mount and away. The men were disposed togrumble.
"Let us stay where we are and fight it out," they cried. "We'll eitherbeat them back, or fall in our tracks."
Indeed, there seemed at first no choice in the matter. The cavalry wasupon them in the rear, while the infantry was making a dA(C)tour, inorder to lie in ambush in a grove just beyond the village, where theywould try to check the farther flight of the deserters. In allprobability the enemy would reach the grove before the hussars, as thelatter had their horses still to saddle.
Meanwhile Richard had made a hasty reconnoissance. To fight their waythrough the infantry in front would, he felt convinced, result inheavy loss to his men, while the cavalry in their rear would beconstantly harassing them until they were entirely destroyed. Not asingle hussar would live to see his home. Such a needless sacrificewas to be avoided if possible. One other way was open,--a steep pathleading up the mountainside toward its snow-capped summit.
"Is there a path over the mountain, and can we get a guide to show usthe way?" asked Richard, of an old shepherd.
"There is a path," he replied, "and if you wish I will show you theway until I can hand you over to another guide. You need fear nopursuit, if you choose that path, but you are likely to perish ofhunger."
"We'll try it, nevertheless," returned Richard.
The men were mounted by this time, and drawn up, sword in hand. Theorder was given to sheath their swords and right wheel.
"Where are we going?" cried the hussars, in a storm of disapproval."Up the mountainside? We will go to hell first!"
Richard drew his pistols. "Whoever has forgotten his oath had bestcommit his soul to God," said he sternly. The angry murmurs werehushed. "Those who still have faith in me will follow. I am goingahead."
The swords went rattling into their scabbards. The guide, equippedwith alpenstock and climbing irons, led the way, Richard followed him,and the hussars came trailing behind, with old Paul as rear guard.
The enemy, after waiting an hour for the fugitives to make a sallyfrom the village, pulled some very long faces when they caught sightof them, high up on the mountainside, following in single file a steeppath along the face of the cliff. Never before had horse's hooftrodden that perilous path; it was so narrow that both steed and riderwere in constant danger of being hurled into the mountain stream thatran foaming a hundred fathoms below. One false step or an attack ofgiddiness would have been fatal.
Amazement was followed by anger on the part of the pursuers. They hadno desire to give chase, but, to prevent their intended victims'escape without a scratch, they discharged their rifles at them. Theirpieces had a range of a thousand paces, and the target could not havebeen better,--dark blue uniforms against a white limestone background.The rifle-balls rebounded from the cliff, so that each one wentwhistling twice by the hussars' ears--as if their position had notbeen already sufficiently perilous.
Yet in that hour of danger the horsemen sat half asleep in theirsaddles, with nodding heads and drooping eyelids. Only Richard in thevan and old Paul in the rear were still on the alert, and kept callingto their comrades to wake up. A turn in the path presently led theriders out of range, and there was no further cause to fearmolestation. A fir grove, as sombre and still as a cathedral, receivedthem in its shelter. Here the starving men unearthed a store ofturnips that had been deposited there for feeding sheep. It was not aninviting dish to human palates; but hunger like theirs is notsqueamish, and they were only too glad to feed on the coarseprovender. They wished to rest in the grove, but their guide spurredthem on once more; pleasant weather was too precious to be wasted inthat region, where fog and darkness would be sure to afford them allthe time they needed for repose.
Forward, then, as long as horse and rider were able to move!
In the afternoon the hussars came to a shepherd's hut, where theirguide committed his charge to the care of the occupant of the littleshanty, and himself returned to the village. Finding a few trusses ofhay, Richard and his men bought them for their horses. But was therenothing, they asked, which might serve to stay a hungry man's stomach?The sheep were feeding below in the valley, and it was too late to goafter them. There was, however, a tub of sheep's milk that had beenset away to curdle for cheese; it was not an appetising drink, to besure, but nourishing and strengthening. Each hussar received half aglassful.
As there was some moonlight that night, Richard determined to make themost of it, and the weary hussars were forced to push on. They had butjust begun the really arduous part of their journey. The path ledupward and was very steep. The fir trees became fewer, and in theirstead began to appear juniper trees, of good, sturdy growth at first,but ever becoming smaller, until at last they were no larger thanbramble bushes.
When the sun rose over the mountain-tops in front, it hung lustrelessand shrouded in mist. The guide began to hint that a snow-storm wasin prospect. All vegetation disappeared as they climbed higher; noteven a blade of grass showed itself on the bare mountainside; no signof man or beast or bird greeted the eye; it was all death's kingdom, alandscape of tombstones, the home of the clouds, whither no sound ofherdsman's horn, or hunter's rifle, or bell of sheep or goat everpenetrated.
Toward noon, as the hussars were descending into a ravine, a densemist began to rise from below.
"If it reaches us we shall have a long resting spell," remarked theguide to Richard. "Let us hasten down into the ravine, where there isbrushwood and we can at least make a fire if the weather is bad."
The mist rose until it had quite enveloped the band of horsemen. Theclouds were returning to their domain, and were asking the intrudersby what right they were there. Their challenge had to be heeded, as itbecame thenceforth impossible to see the way. The guide proposed to goon ahead for a few hundred paces, promising to call back to the othersif the path proved to be safe.
A quarter of an hour's anxious waiting followed, while the cold mistpowdered every man's beard and hair with hoar frost. Still failing tohear any call from below, Richard descended a few steps and shouted tothe guide. No answer. Hungry, thirsty, shivering, the hussars stoodwaiting.
"Follow me," commanded Richard, and he proceeded to lead his men, asgood luck might guide him, down the mountain. All dismounted and ledtheir horses after them. The fog continued to wrap them about as theydescended, but at length they reached a thick growth of juniperbushes.
"We must camp here for the night," declared Richard, and bade his menkindle fires.
It was already growing dark. Possibly the sun was still shining up onthe heights, but down there in the dense fog it was dark. Brushwoodwas at hand in plenty, so that the hussars were at least sure not tofreeze. They hobbled their hor
ses and left them. Fodder there was noneto give them, but the riders themselves were no better off.
The hussars lighted their fires and gathered about them, tired nearlyto death and longing for one thing above all else,--sleep. Richardgave orders that one man should remain awake at each fire to tend it;then he wrapped himself in his cloak and lay down by his fire.
It was too much to expect any one to keep awake. The watchers thoughtthat if they only threw on enough fuel the fires would last.
Scarcely had the sleepers had time to fly home in their dreams andgreet the dear ones there, when a sudden uproar wakened them all witha start. It was the whinnying of frightened horses. The thicket hadcaught fire from the unguarded watch-fires, and was one sheet of flamewhen the men awoke.
"Up the mountain!" cried Richard, running to his horse and seeking thenearest way of escape from the spreading sea of fire that raged aroundhim.
There was light enough now to show them the way only too clearly, anda perilous, breakneck path it was. The extremity of the danger intheir rear, however, gave to men and horses an almost preternaturalstrength, and they accomplished in a short time an ascent that madethem dizzy to look back upon. They stood there a moment, steaming withperspiration in the cold night air, and not daring to linger. Theywere forced to push on, if only to keep warm. There was no halting forconsultation now; every man made the best of his way forward; if anyshould faint by the way they would have to lie where they fell.
Day dawned at last,--the most harrowing day of their long flight.Ice-clad peaks and fields of snow greeted the eye on every side, withnothing to guide a traveller's course but the sun in the heavens. Twodays had passed since the men had tasted food. They sought to quenchtheir thirst with lumps of snow, but only made matters worse.
One thing, however, troubled them more than hunger or thirst. Theirhorses were beginning to fail them, falling exhausted, one afteranother, in the deep snow; and whenever one of the animals fell, itsrider stood by its side, with tears in his eyes, more than halfinclined to lie down too and give up the fight. But old Paul wouldallow no such nonsense. Alternately swearing and coaxing, and callingupon the saints, he spurred on the stragglers, helped to raise afallen horse where help was of any avail, brought up the reservehorses to take the places of those left behind, and infused freshcourage into all by the mere force of his example.
"Not a man must be lost!" he cried. "We shall soon be at home now."
"Yes, at home in heaven," muttered one weary hussar to another.
The men were scattered over a distance of two miles, Richard takingthe lead and breaking a path through the deep snow, while Paul broughtup the rear. It was almost a miracle that their strength still heldout. Their clothes were frozen stiff, and their swords had become agrievous burden to them. The horses' girths flapped loosely againsttheir sides, their shoes had fallen off, and their hoofs were torn andbruised. And no one could tell when or how or where it would all end.
One last trial was in store for the weary fugitives: in the afternoona dense snow-storm met them in the face. Should Richard lead his menby any mischance into a ravine that offered no outlet, they would allbe lost. Occasional avalanches came sliding down the steep cliffs,threatening to bury men and horses. Yet they did not quite lose heart.The terrors of their situation had not yet extinguished the spark ofhope.
Evening was again approaching when Richard noted that for some timethey had been descending. Before long a well-grown fir grove loomed upahead and proved a grateful asylum to the wanderers. The wind blewthrough the tree-tops with the sound of some giant organ, but aboveits tones Richard heard what was the sweetest of music to hisears,--the sound of a woodman's axe. Human beings and humanhabitations were near. Taking a few of his men, the hussar captainhastened in the direction of the sound, and soon came upon awood-chopper cutting the branches from a tree he had just felled.Richard called to him in the Moravian tongue.
"Bless the Lord!" answered the wood-chopper in Hungarian, whereuponthe hussars nearly smothered him with kisses and embraces. Then theythrew themselves down on their faces in the snow and gave thanks fortheir deliverance from danger. Yes, blessed be the name of the Lordfrom everlasting to everlasting!
The wood-chopper told them they were expected in the village yonder,only a short distance down the mountain. Word of their approach hadalready been brought by the guide, who had left them and hurried onahead to summon help.
The snow ceased, and as the veil of clouds was drawn aside a view wasgiven of what the hussars had come so far to see,--the fair land ofHungary.
At the base of the mountain lay a little market-town, reached by awinding road up which, with flags and music, a glad procession was nowmarching to welcome the home-coming hussars. Hearing the band andseeing the banners from afar, Richard and his companions fired theirpistols as a signal to their slower comrades, who presently came upwith them. All were there,--not a man missing. Dressing their ranks,the horsemen waited to receive the procession. What occurred when itreached them is more than the present generation of readers can beasked to picture to themselves.
A banquet had been spread for the home-coming heroes, and afterpartaking of it generously, the toil-worn but happy hussars, who hadnot slept for six nights, danced through the seventh until broaddaylight.
All this is no piece of fiction, no picture of the imagination. Ayoung hussar, now a veteran of many wars, wrote it all down in hisdiary as it occurred, and is to-day ready to take oath that it isevery word true as here described.