For what? O, Bucephalus! let us try to wake and leave the dream behind.The gratitude of a princess and a dog...and for this a rose.Well, it will prove the substance of many a pipe, many a kindly pipe.You miss a good deal, Bucephalus; smoking is an evil habit only to those who have not learned to smoke."The animal replied with a low whinney, and Maurice, believing that the horse had given an ear to his monologue, laughed.But he flattered himself.The horse whinneyed because he inhaled the faint odor of his kind.He drew down on the rein and settled into a swinging trot, which to Maurice's surprise was faster and easier than the canter.They covered a mile this way, when Maurice's roving eye discovered moving shadows, perhaps half a mile in advance.
"Hello! we're not the only ones jogging along.Eh, what's that?"Something flashed brightly, like silver reflecting moonlight;then came a spark of flame, which died immediately, and later Maurice caught an echo which resembled the bursting of a leaf against the lips."Come; that looks like a pistol shot."Again the flash of silver, broader and clearer this time; and Maurice could now separate the shadow-shapes.A carriage of some sort rolled from side to side, and two smaller shadows followed its wild flight.One--two--three times Maurice saw the sparks and heard the faint reports.He became excited.Something extraordinary was taking place on the lonely road.Suddenly the top of the carriage replied with spiteful flashes of red.Then the moon came out from behind the clouds, and the picture was vividly outlined.Two continuous flashes of silver....
Cuirassiers! Maurice loosened the rein, and the horse went forward as smoothly as a sail.The distance grew visibly less.
The carriage opened fire again, and Maurice heard the sinister m-m-m of a bullet winging past him.
"The wrong man may get hit, Bucephalus," he said, bending to the neck of the horse; "which is not unusual.You're pulling them down, old boy; keep it up.There's trouble ahead, and since the cuirassiers are for the king, we'll stand by the cuirassiers."On they flew, nearer and nearer, until the pistol shots were no longer echoes.Two other horsemen came into view, in advance of the carriage.Five minutes more of this exciting chase, and the faces took on lines and grew into features.Up, up crept the gallant little horse, his hoofs rattling against the road like snares on a drum.When within a dozen rods, Maurice saw one of the cuirassiers turn and level a revolver at him.Fortunately the horse swerved, and the ball went wide.
"Don't shoot!" Maurice yelled; "don't shoot!"The face he saw was von Mitter's.His heart clogged in his throat, not at the danger which threatened him, but at the thought of what that carriage might contain.
A short time passed, during which nothing was heard but the striking of galloping hoofs and the rumble of the carriage.
Maurice soon drew abreast of von Mitter.There was a gash on the latter's cheek, and the blood from it dripped on his cuirass.
"Close for you, my friend," he gasped; when he recognized the new arrival."Have you--God! my leg that time," with a groan.
For the fire of the carriage had spoken again, and true.
Maurice shut his teeth, drew his revolver, cocked it and applied the spurs.With a bound he shot past von Mitter, who was cursing deeply and trying to reload.Maurice did not propose to waste powder on the driver, but was determined to bring down one of the carriage horses, which were marvelous brutes for speed.
Scharfenstein kept popping away at the driver, but without apparent result.Finally Maurice secured the desired range.He raised the revolver, rested the barrel between the left thumb and forefinger and pressed the trigger.The nearest carriage horse lurched to his knees, a bullet in his brain, dragging his mate with him.The race had come to an end.
At once the two horsemen in front separated; one continued toward the great forest, while the other took to the hills.
Scharfenstein started in pursuit of the latter.As for the carriage, it came to an abrupt stand.The driver made a flying leap toward the lake, but stumbled and fell, and before he could regain his feet Maurice was off his horse and on his quarry.He caught the fellow by the throat and pressed him to the earth, kneeling on his chest.
