"Swear to me, gentlemen," said she, "that I shall not go alive into their hands."

"You will not," said Volodyovski, "while I am alive."

They had barely pa.s.sed the end and come into an open field about a mile in width, and on the other side of it another line of forest stood dark. That bald s.p.a.ce of earth open on every side was all silvered over from the rays of the moon. All things were as visible on it as in the daytime.

"This is the worst piece of road," whispered Volodyovski to Zagloba; "for if they are in Chorni Ostroff, they will pa.s.s between these forests."

Zagloba gave no answer; he only pressed the horse with his heels.

They had run to the middle of the field, the opposite forest was growing nearer each moment and more distinct, when suddenly the little knight stretched out his hand to the east. "Look!" said he to Zagloba; "do you see?"

"Some kind of branches and thicket in the distance."

"Those branches are moving. Now on, on, push on! for they see us beyond a doubt."

The wind whistled past the ears of the fleeing; the forest of salvation drew nearer each instant.

All at once out of that dark ma.s.s approaching from the right side of the field flew on as it were the roar of sea waves, and the next moment one great shout rent the air.

"They see us!" bellowed Zagloba. "Dogs, ruffians, devils, wolves, scoundrels!"

The forest was so near that the fugitives almost felt its cold, austere breath; but also the cloud of Tartars became each moment more clearly outlined, and from the dark body of it long arms began to push out like the horns of some gigantic monster, and approached the fugitives with inconceivable rapidity. The trained ear of Volodyotski already distinguished clearly: "Allah! Allah!"

"My horse has stumbled!" shouted Zagloba.

"That is nothing!" cried Volodyovski

But through his head that moment there flew like thunderbolts the questions: "What will happen if the horses do not hold out? What will happen if one of them falls?" They were valiant Tartar steeds of iron endurance, but they had come already from Ploskiri, resting but little on that wild flight from the town to the first forest. They might, it is true, take the led horses, but they too were tired. "What is to be done?" thought Volodyovski; and his heart throbbed with alarm,--perhaps for the first time in his life,--not for himself, but for Helena, whom during that long journey he had come to love as his own sister. And he knew too that the Tartars when they had once begun pursuit would not relinquish it very soon. "Let them keep on, they will not catch her,"

said he, setting his teeth.

"My horse has stumbled!" cried Zagloba a second time.

"That is nothing!" answered Volodyovski again.

They were now in the forest, darkness around them; but single Tartar hors.e.m.e.n were not farther than a few hundred yards behind. But the little knight knew now what to do.

"Jendzian," cried he, "turn with the lady to the first path leading out of the highway."

"Good, my master!"

The little knight turned to Zagloba. "Pistol in hand!" At the same time, seizing the bridle of Zagloba's horse, he began to restrain his course.

"What are you doing?" cried the n.o.ble.

"Nothing! Hold in your horse!"

The distance between them and Jendzian, who had escaped with Helena, increased every moment. At last he came with her to a point where the highway turned rather sharply toward Zbaraj, and straight ahead lay a narrow forest-trail half hidden by branches. Jendzian rushed into it, and in a twinkle the two had disappeared in the thicket and the gloom.

Meanwhile Volodyovski had stopped his own horse and Zagloba's.

"In the name of G.o.d's mercy, what are you doing?" roared Zagloba.

"We delay the pursuit. There is no other salvation for the princess."

"We shall perish!"

"Let us perish. Stop here right by the side of the road,--right here!"

Both stood close under the trees in the darkness; presently the mighty thumping of Tartar horses approached and roared like a storm till the whole forest was filled with it.

"It has come!" said Zagloba, raising the skin of wine to his mouth. He drank and drank, then shook himself. "In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost," coughed he. "I am ready for death."

"This minute! this minute!" cried Volodyovski. "Three of them are riding in advance; that is what I wanted."

In fact three hors.e.m.e.n appeared on the clear road, mounted evidently on the best horses,--"wolf-hunters," so called in the Ukraine, for they came up with wolves in the chase,--and two or three hundred yards behind them a few hundred others, and still farther a whole dense throng of the horde.

When the first three came in front of the ambush two shots were discharged; then Volodyovski sprang like a panther into the middle of the road, and before Zagloba had time to think what was done the third Tartar was on the ground.

"Forward!" shouted the little knight.

Zagloba did not let the order be repeated, and they rushed over the road like a pair of wolves hunted by a pack of angry dogs. That moment the other Tartars hastened to the corpses, and seeing that those hunted wolves could bite to death they curbed their horses a little, waiting for their comrades.

"As you see, I knew that I should stop them," said Volodyovski.

But although the fugitives gained a few hundred steps, the interruption in the chase did not last long. Only the Tartars pressed on in a larger crowd, not pushing forward singly.

The horses of the fugitives were wearied by the long road, and their speed slackened, especially that of Zagloba's horse, which bearing such a considerable burden stumbled once and twice. What there was left of the old man's hair stood on end at the thought that he should fall.

"Pan Michael, dearest Pan Michael, do not abandon me!" cried he, in despair.

"Oh, be of good heart!" answered the little knight.

"May the wolves tear this hor--"

He had not finished this sentence when the first arrow hissed near his ear, and after it others began to hiss and whistle and sing as if they were horseflies and bees. One pa.s.sed so near that its head almost grazed Zagloba's ear.

Volodyovski turned and again fired twice from his pistol at the pursuers.

Zagloba's horse stumbled now so heavily that his nostrils were almost buried in the earth.

"By the living G.o.d, my horse is dying!" shouted he, in a heart-rending voice.

"From the saddle to the woods!" thundered Volodyovski.

Having given this order, he stopped his own horse, sprang off, and a moment later he and Zagloba vanished in the darkness. But this movement did not escape the slanting eyes of the Tartars, and several tens of them springing from their horses also gave chase. The branches tore the cap from Zagloba's head, beat him on the face and caught his coat, but putting his feet behind his belt he made off as if he were thirty years of age. Sometimes he fell, but he was up again and off quicker than ever, puffing like a bellows. At last he fell into a deep hole, and felt that he could not crawl out again, for his strength had failed him completely.

"Where are you?" called Volodyovski, in a low voice.