“Forward,” I cried. “We must get through them.” But to my dismay Mademoiselle hesitated.
Then Petrov and a man with him ran and placed themselves in front of her and made a snatch at her bridle rein. Karasch and I pushed forward.
“Stand back there,” I said.
“That she devil can’t pass, Burgwan,” answered Petrov.
I stretched forward and tore his grip from the rein and flung him reeling back into the crowd.
A score of hands were raised in menace and the cries of “The Witch! Death for the Witch!” went up all around us; while the circle closed in ominously. A stone was hurled and narrowly missed me and then some dirt was thrown at Mademoiselle.
That was more than I was taking. If we were to get through it would have to be by force. So I drew my revolver and called to Karasch to do the same.
“I’ll shoot the first man who stops me,” I shouted, and for a moment the men fell back before the weapons. “Now is our chance. Gallop for all we’re worth and we shall get through.”
But the luck was against us. A stone struck Mademoiselle’s horse and he reared and plunged and then fell. In a second she was in the grip of half a dozen men and before Karasch and I could dismount and get to her assistance we were separated from her by the crowd and seized in our turn, the weapons were struck from our hands and we were overpowered.
I was carried into a house close to the inn, my hands and legs were bound and I was thrust into a room and left to curse my folly for having ventured into the place, to brood over the dangers to Mademoiselle, and to breathe impotent vows of vengeance against Petrov and everyone concerned in our capture.