"Down here! It's all over with me,--save me, Pan Michael."

Volodyovski sprang without hesitation to the hole and clapped his hand on Zagloba's mouth: "Be silent! perhaps they will pa.s.s us! We will defend ourselves anyhow."

By that time the Tartars came up. Some of them did in fact pa.s.s the hole, thinking that the fugitives had gone farther; others went slowly, examining the trees and looking around on every side. The knights held the breath in their b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Let some one fall in here," thought Zagloba, in despair; "I'll fall on him."

Just then sparks scattered on every side; the Tartars began to strike fire. By the flash their wild faces could be seen, with their puffed cheeks and lips sticking out, blowing the lighted tinder. For a time they kept going around a few tens of steps from the hole like ill-omened forest phantoms, drawing nearer and nearer.

But at the last moment wonderful sounds of some sort, murmurs, and confused cries began to come from the highway and to rouse the slumbering depths. The Tartars stopped striking fire, and stood as if rooted to the earth. Volodyovski's hand was biting into the shoulder of Zagloba.

The cries increased, and suddenly red lights burst forth, and with them was heard a salvo of musketry,--once, twice, three times,--followed by shouts of "Allah!" the clatter of sabres, the neighing of horses, tramping, and confused uproar. A battle was raging on the road.

"Ours, ours!" shouted Volodyovski.

"Slay! kill! strike! cut! slaughter!" bellowed Zagloba.

A second later a number of Tartars rushed past the hole in the wildest disorder, and vanished in the direction of their party. Volodyovski did not restrain himself; he sprang after them, and pressed on in the thicket and darkness.

Zagloba remained at the bottom of the hole. He tried to crawl up, but could not. All his bones were aching, and he was barely able to stand on his feet.

"Ah, scoundrels!" said he, looking around on every side, "you have fled; it is a pity some one of you did not stay,-- I should have company in this hole, and I would show him where pepper grows! Oh, pagan trash, they are cutting you up like beasts this minute! Oh, for G.o.d's sake, the uproar is increasing every moment! I wish that Yeremi himself were here; he would warm you. You are shouting, 'Allah! Allah!'

The wolves will shout 'Allah!' over your carrion pretty soon. But that Pan Michael should leave me here alone! Well, nothing wonderful; he is eager, for he is young. After this last adventure I would follow him anywhere, for he is not a friend to leave one in distress. He is a wasp! In one minute he stung three! If at least I had that wine-skin with me! But those devils have surely taken it, or the horses have trampled it. Besides insects are devouring me in this ditch! What's that?"

The shouts and discharges of musketry began to recede in the direction of the field and the first forest.

"Ah, ah!" thought Zagloba, "they are on their necks. Oh, dog-brothers, you could not hold out! Praise be to G.o.d in the highest!"

The shouts receded farther and farther.

"They ride l.u.s.tily," muttered he. "But I see that I shall have to sit in this ditch. It only remains now for the wolves to eat me. Bogun to begin with, then the Tartars, and wolves at the end! G.o.d grant a stake to Bogun and madness to the wolves! Our men will take care of the Tartars not in the worst fashion. Pan Michael! Pan Michael!"

Silence gave answer to Zagloba; only the pines murmured, and from afar came the sounds fainter and fainter.

"Shall I lie down to sleep here, or what? May the devil take it! Pan Michael!"

But Zagloba's patience had a long trial yet, for dawn was in the sky when the clatter of hoofs was heard again on the road and lights shone in the forest.

"Pan Michael, I am here!"

"Crawl out."

"But I cannot."

Volodyovski with a torch in his hand stood over the hole, and giving his hand to Zagloba, said: "Well, the Tartars are gone; we drove them to the other forest."

"But who came up?"

"Kushel and Roztvorovski, with two thousand horse. My dragoons are with them too."

"Were there many of the Pagans?"

"A couple of thousand."

"Praise be to G.o.d! Give me something to drink, for I am faint."

Two hours later Zagloba, having eaten and drunk what he needed; was sitting on a comfortable saddle in the midst of Volodyovski's dragoons, and at his side rode the little knight, who said,--

"Do not worry; for though we shall not come to Zbaraj in company with the princess, it would have been worse if she had fallen into the hands of the heathen."

"But perhaps Jendzian will come back yet to Zbaraj."

"He will not. The highway will be occupied; the party which we drove back will return soon and follow us. Besides Burlai may appear at any moment before Jendzian could come in. Hmelnitski and the Khan are marching on the other side from Konstantinoff."

"Oh, for G.o.d's sake! Then he will fall into a trap with the princess."

"Jendzian has wit enough to spring through between Zbaraj and Konstantinoff in time, and not let the regiments of Hmelnitski nor the parties of the Khan catch him. You see I have great confidence in his success."

"G.o.d grant it!"

"He is a cunning lad, just like a fox. You have no lack of stratagem, but he is more cunning. We split our heads a great deal over plans to rescue the girl, but in the end our hands dropped, and through him the whole has been directed. He'll slip out this time like a snake, for it is a question of his own life. Have confidence,--for G.o.d, who saved her so many times, is over her now; and remember that in Zbaraj you bade me have confidence when Zakhar came."

Zagloba was strengthened somewhat by these words of Pan Michael, and then fell into deep thought.

"Pan Michael," he said after a time, "have you asked Kushel what Skshetuski is doing?"

"He is in Zbaraj, and well; he came from Prince Koretski's with Zatsvilikhovski."

"But what shall we tell him?"

"Ah, there is the rub!"

"Does he think yet that the girl was killed in Kieff?"

"He does."

"Have you told Kushel or any one else where we are coming from?"

"I have not, for I thought it better to take counsel first."

"I should prefer to say nothing of the whole affair. If the girl should fall again into Cossack or Tartar hands (which G.o.d forbid!), it would be a new torture, just as if some one were to tear open all his wounds."

"I'll give my head that Jendzian takes her through."

"I should gladly give my own to have him do so; but misfortune rages now in the world like a pestilence. Better be silent, and leave everything to the will of G.o.d."

"So let it be. But will not Podbipienta give the secret to Skshetuski?"

"Don't you know him? He gave his word of honor, which for that Lithuanian is sacred."