From one or two wanderers like themselves he presently learnt that the Mongols were everywhere on the move, and were all going in the same direction, southwards. But what it meant no one could guess. They were moving with their usual extraordinary rapidity, and but few stragglers on foot were believed to be left behind.

But it might be only some fresh treachery, some trap, and the people dared not leave the caves, caverns, thick woods, where they had hidden themselves, and lived, or existed, in a way hardly credible, on roots, herbs, gra.s.s, the bark of trees, some of them even eking out their scanty provisions by a diet of small pebbles!

Needless to say that many died of hunger, while the remainder were reduced to skeletons, shadows, ghosts of their former selves.

From some of these bands of refugees Talabor heard fragmentary accounts of the horrors that had been enacted, and the events that had followed after the battle of Mohi.

Dora had felt more and more confidence in her travelling companion as day had followed day during their terrible journey. He had spared no pains in his efforts to lighten the privations and difficulties of the way; he had thought for her, cared for her, in a hundred ways; and yet with it all, he was just as deferential as if they had been in the castle at home.

Miserable were the best resting places he could find for her for the night, either in the depths of the forest or in some cavern or deep cleft of the rocks. Sometimes he was able to make her a little hut of dry branches, roofed over with snow; and when he could do so without risk of discovery, he would light a fire and cook any game that he had been able to shoot in the course of the day.

But whatever the shelter he found or contrived for her, he himself always kept watch outside, and got what little sleep he could when the night was past.

They had almost lost count of time, and they hardly knew where they were, when, late one night, Dora came to a standstill.

The moon was shining, the cold intense, and the snow, which crackled beneath their feet, lay thick and glittering all around them. It was the sort of night that sends fear into the hearts of all who are compelled to be abroad, and yet are anxious to escape the notice of their fellow men, for it was as light almost as by day, and the travellers showed up like a couple of black spots against the white background.

Talabor, m.u.f.fled in his cloak, was leading Dora by the hand; she had her large hood drawn over her head, and the two looked as very a pair of tramps as one could meet with anywhere.

The cold cut through them like a knife, though the night was still--too still, for there was not wind enough to cover up the track they had left behind them. It would be easy to trace them, for the snow was powdery, and in many places they had sunk in it up to their knees.

"I must stop, I am tired out! and I am so deadly sleepy," said Dora, in a broken voice, "I feel numb all over, as if I were paralysed."

She looked ghastly pale, worn, thin, a mere shadow of what she had been; and she had been travelling all day, dragging herself along with the greatest difficulty.

"Dear lady," said Talabor gently, supporting her trembling figure as well as he could, "do you see that dark patch under the trees yonder?"

"I can't see so far, Talabor," she stammered.

"I see it plainly," he went on, "and it is a building of some sort, a dwelling-house, I think. If you could just manage to get so far, we should be better sheltered than we are here."

"Let us try," said Dora, summoning all her remaining strength.

"Lean on me," Talabor urged in a tone of encouragement; "we shall be there in a quarter of an hour; but if you can't walk, you must let me carry you as I have done before, it is such a little way."

"You are very good, Talabor," said the girl gratefully, and off they set again.

The building which Talabor had noticed stood on rising ground, on one side of the valley, and, the snow not being quite so deep on the slope, they were able to get on a little faster. Neither spoke, for what was there to talk about? The cold was benumbing, and both were suffering.

Presently Dora felt her knees give way under her, and everything seemed to turn black before her eyes.

"Talabor!" she whispered, holding his arm with both hands, "I--I am dying--you go on yourself and leave me!"

"Leave you!" exclaimed Talabor; and before Dora could say another word, he had thrown back his cloak and picked her up in his arms. She was almost fainting, and overpowered by the deadly sleep induced by the cold.

Light as his burthen was, it was a struggle for Talabor to make his way through the snow, for he, too, had lost much of his accustomed strength during the past weeks of hardship and anxiety. Still, he managed to go straight on without stumbling or faltering. All about them, for some distance and in every direction, there were strange prints in the snow, and these he scanned carefully until he had quite a.s.sured himself that they were not made by human feet.

"No Tartars have been here lately, at all events!" he said, by way of cheering his companion, as they drew near the gloomy, deserted building, which was not a ruin, but one of the many dwellings plundered by the Mongols, and for some reason abandoned without being completely destroyed.

It was a small, dark place, and its only defences were its outer walls.

There was no moat; and it had probably belonged to some n.o.ble family of little wealth or importance, who had either fled or been murdered. The gate was lying on the ground, and the snow in the courtyard was almost waist-deep. Talabor needed all his strength to wade through it and to carry Dora up the stone steps, which he could only guess at, and had to clear with his foot as he went on.

In the tolerably large room which he first entered all the furniture was half consumed by fire, and the door burnt off its hinges; the moonlight, which streamed through the open windows, showed bare, blackened walls, and a scene of general desolation.

Spreading his cloak on the bench, which owed its escape from destruction to the fact that it was covered with plaster, he laid Dora down upon it, gathered up some of the broken furniture already half reduced to charcoal, and soon had a small fire burning. The smoke from it filled the whole room, but still the warmth revived his companion, who had known what it was to spend even worse nights than this one promised to be; for, when Talabor presently took a piece of burning wood from the fire, that he might explore the building, he found an old sack full of straw. The room in which he discovered it opened out of the larger one, and was not quite so desolate looking, for the fire did not seem to have penetrated so far, and, moreover, it had a large fireplace still containing the remains of charcoal and bones.

Talabor lighted another fire here, drew the sack into one corner, and hurried back to Dora, who was now dozing a little, with the light from the crackling fire shining on her face. How deadly pale, how wasted it was!

Talabor stood looking at her for a moment, wondering whether after all he should be able to save a life which every day was making more precious to him.

He piled more wood on the fire, and tried to rub a little warmth into his own numb hands. It was the most bitter night of all their wanderings, and the cold pierced his very bones. Tired out as he was, heavy with drowsiness, he kept going from one fire to the other, as he wanted to take Dora into the smaller room when she awoke, for it was not only a degree warmer, but also free from smoke, and had a door which would shut.

She opened her eyes about midnight, and seemed to be all the better for her two hours' sleep. Talabor had kept her so carefully covered, and had replenished the fire so diligently that her healthy young blood had begun to flow again, and, not for the first time, he had saved her from the more serious consequences of her exposure and fatigue.

"Talabor!" she said, raising herself a little, "I have been asleep!

thank you so much! Now you must rest; you must, indeed, for if your strength fails, it will be all over with us both."

"Oh, I am accustomed to sleeping with one eye open, as the Tartars do when they are on horseback. It does just as well for me; but you, dear lady, must rest for at least a few hours longer, and after that I will have a real sleep too."

"A few hours!"

"Yes, here in the next room, where I have found a royal bed of straw, and there is a good fire and no smoke."

By this time the smaller room really had some warmth in it, in spite of the empty window frames; and the sack of straw was a most luxurious couch in Dora's eyes.

"What a splendid bed, Talabor!" said she, gratefully; "but before I lie down, one question--it sounds a very earthly one, though you have been an angel to me but--have we anything to eat? I am shamefully hungry!"

"To be sure we have!" said Talabor, opening his knapsack, and producing a piece of venison baked on the bare coals. "All we want is salt and bread, and something to drink, but there is plenty of snow!"

"Let us be thankful for what G.o.d gives us! Our good home-made bread!

what a long time it is since we tasted it!"

"We shall again in time!" said Talabor confidently, as he handed Dora the one knife and the cold meat.

"Talabor," said Dora presently, "I am afraid we have come far out of our way."

"I am afraid so too," he answered, "but I don't think we could help it.

There has been little to guide us but burnt villages and ruined church-towers. And then, when we have come upon recent traces of the Tartars, we have had to take any way we could, and sometimes to turn back and hide in the forest for safety. How far south we have come I can hardly guess, but we are too much to the east, I fancy."

"You have saved me at all events, over and over again: from wild beasts by night, from horrible men by day, from fire, smoke, everything! I shall tell my father what a good, faithful Talabor you have been! And now I am really not very sleepy, and I should so like to see you rest--you know you are my only protector now in all the wide world, and you must take care of yourself for me!"

"You must have just a little more rest yourself first, dear mistress, and then I will have a sleep."

"You promise faithfully? Then shake hands upon it, for you have deceived me before now, you bad fellow!"

But when next Dora opened her eyes, the moon had set; it was quite dark; the fire had gone out, and the cold was more biting than ever.