“Whistle you too,” I whispered, “for our men, and haul in the line. No talk now.”
They hauled up the body. Just as it reached the road, three men on horseback swept round from the front of the Castle. We saw them; but, being on foot ourselves, we escaped their notice. But we heard our men coming up with a shout.
“The devil, but it’s dark!” cried a ringing voice.
It was young Rupert. A moment later, shots rang out. Our people had met them. I started forward at a run, Sapt and Fritz following me.
“Thrust, thrust!” cried Rupert again, and a loud groan following told that he himself was not behind-hand.
“I’m done, Rupert!” cried a voice. “They’re three to one. Save yourself!”
I ran on, holding my cudgel in my hand. Suddenly a horse came towards me. A man was on it, leaning over his shoulder.
“Are you cooked too, Krafstein?” he cried.
There was no answer.
I sprang to the horse’s head. It was Rupert Hentzau.