He listened very attentively, put numerous questions, most of which I was able to answer, and appeared exceedingly thoughtful.

"Well, well," he at last exclaimed, "we must do our best; but unless Dembinski joins us from the south, I don't see how we're to escape.

Other three weeks, my boy, will see the end of it."

It was perfectly plain that the general's common-sense prevented him from hoping any longer, but he kept his knowledge to himself; and when, later on, we gathered round his table for an hour, he was the life and soul of the party.

Fortunately, my personal effects were in the camp, so that I was able to join the others properly dressed, though, of course, I had to endure much good-humoured raillery.

After supper we lingered for a half-hour's chat, and the general asked me to relate the story of my personal adventures.

At the part where we abandoned the horses, Gorgei exclaimed laughingly, "Now we are on the track, gentlemen. It seems to me that our friend has been hunted by wolves. First, he sacrifices the animals; then he empties his pistols; next, his servant gives up his life; then, one by one, he discards his garments to the ravening pack."

"It's the wrong time of year for wolves, general."

"Ach, so it is. Well, go on, Botskay. We're all wondering what it means."

As the story unfolded bit by bit, the fellows craned forward eagerly, being loud in their applause when I told how Mecsey and Popkoff followed me into the dark waters.

"That Mecsey is a servant worth having," said Gorgei; "and the Russian proved a very plucky fellow."

"His men showed the white feather, though," growled Mizvy, who always fastened on the seamy side of things.

"I think I should have done the same," cried Szondi, with a laugh.

"This underground travelling isn't much to my liking."

"Some of these Muscovites would have been none the worse for a good bath," chimed in another fellow.

"But Mecsey Sandor and the Russian--what became of them?" inquired the general.

"Oh, Mecsey saved my life;" and I told how the trusty fellow had dragged both Popkoff and myself from the river.

At the idea of Mecsey and the Russian, neither of whom understood a word the other said, being left together, they all laughed heartily, being no less amused at my method of procuring a dinner.

However, in spite of their fun, I knew they were very pleased at my safe return; and the general's "Well done, Botskay!" as I left his tent, was ample reward for what I had gone through.

Early the next morning we were again in retreat, and on the twenty-fifth of July crossed the Theiss at Poroszlo, after a sharp engagement with the Russian advanced guard, commanded by Prince Gortschakoff.

Mecsey had not yet returned, but his absence did not alarm me, as Colonel Popkoff was not in a condition to travel very fast.

During the retreat I had seen Rakoczy several times, and also Dobozy, who had recently been made major.

The former retained his joyous spirits, came up with a cheery smile after each misfortune, and professed to believe that before long we should gain a tremendous victory, and drive both Austrians and Russians out of the country.

All this was only for outside consumption, but Dobozy a.s.sured me that the colonel really had not the slightest hope of success. In fact, a general depression settled down on the army. The soldiers began to grumble and to ask why they were fighting. The old grievance broke out afresh, and men said openly it was a folly to sacrifice their lives for a cause in which they had no part.

They were not republicans, and if Gorgei had had a free hand, all they wanted would have been granted long before.

Still, they trusted implicitly in their great leader, and if he told them to fight on, why, fight they would.

Occasionally we heard accounts of Bern's gallant exploits in Transylvania, where in the face of heavy odds he astounded his opponents both by his daring bravery and his military skill.

Yet we all felt that, whatever the result of the campaign in that quarter, it could have little effect on the real struggle.

If we could join our forces with those of Dembinski, there remained a chance of striking at the Austrian and Russian armies separately, but it was as difficult to join the Pole as to avoid the enemy.

However, Gorgei persevered, and, leaving Nagy Sandor to cover the approach to Debreczin with 18,000 men, continued his march, hoping by a wide circuit to deceive the Russians and reach the fortress of Arad.

There, if anywhere, we should be joined by Dembinski; and if he could not or would not meet us, we could either surrender or die where we stood.

It was, if I remember rightly, on the fourth morning after leaving the Theiss that the general sent me back in hot haste with a note for Nagy Sandor.

"Another journey, Botskay?" cried Szondi, as I rode past. "Don't forget to bring your clothes back this time."

There was a hearty laugh at this from his comrades, and one said it would be easy to track me, were I missing, by looking for my abandoned garments.

Indeed many years went by before I heard the last of that unlucky incident.

I answered their chaff in the same strain, and rode off in good spirits, though sorry that the trusty Mecsey was not with me.

Everything went well on the journey. There was no likelihood of meeting with the Russians, and my worst enemies were the bad roads.

At night I slept three or four hours in a peasant's hut, entering Debreczin about noon next day.

The city was in the greatest uproar. The people crowded the streets talking excitedly, and the word "Russians" was on the tongue of every speaker.

Being fairly well acquainted with the district, I expected to find Nagy Sandor posted on the sandhills about a mile from and covering the town.

I had just cleared the city when a tremendous cannonade opened from the hills. It was Nagy Sandor's artillery showering grape and canister upon the enemy's advanced guard.

Spurring my horse vigorously I overtook the general, with several officers, riding to the scene of conflict.

He glanced at Gorgei's note, thrust it into his pocket, told me to wait till the end of the battle, and dashed on to the hills where he had posted his masked battery.

Forty guns were belching forth canister and grape on the advancing Russians, who appeared to be taken by surprise.

They came on, however, in dense columns; but the iron hail was too much for them, and at last they went back beaten, amidst the cheers of our infantry ma.s.sed behind the guns.

The advantage, however, did not remain with us long. Four heavy batteries, placed in good positions, replied to our guns, and a short time afterwards we saw the horse artillery galloping to the front.

"The odds are too great," said the man next me savagely. "The enemy must have forty against our eighteen thousand, and we shall be beaten again."

"We're getting well used to it," muttered his comrade, laughing harshly.

"Our fellows are sticking to their guns grandly for all that," I said; and indeed for several hours the cannonade continued without the Russians gaining a step.

Having no special duty to perform, I busied myself in attending to the wounded, for the enemy's fire was committing havoc in our ranks.

Late in the afternoon I again found myself near the general, who had sent off all his aides-de-camp, when I saw a movement on our right which told me that the battle was lost.