Between Trun and Atar the road is of an intensely beautiful nature, presenting many different kinds of scenery, well wooded in places, with gentle slopes running down to small streams which feed the Loina, while always to the north rose the mountains. The road itself rises and falls with delightful frequency, from an artistic point of view, although I doubt if the farmers who live in the vicinity, or their horses, really appreciate it. On the top of one of these inclines the road was bisected by a cart track, and in order to obtain a view over the surrounding country I had turned off along this track, accompanied by Woolgast, Scutane, and some dozen troopers.
It was soon after daybreak, and we were returning from Pinofska, where I had slept the night before. I do not know quite how it happened, but, on attempting to retrace our steps, we discovered that our way was blocked by some fifty of the enemy's cavalry. It was extremely lucky for us that we saw them before they saw us, for it gave us time to get speed on our horses. To charge was the only thing for us to do, and we struck them hard; in a few seconds we were through them, all save two of the troopers who had been shot down. We raced for the road, with the Bornians hard at our heels. We could hear from their cries, that they knew I was of the party and it made them redouble their efforts to overtake us; they kept up a fusillade of revolver shots, but fortunately without effect.
Our horses fairly flew along that muddy track, but, quickly as we went, the Bornians were as quick, and as we turned into the Trun road they were a very little way behind. In their eagerness to capture me, they must have forgotten that all the time we were approaching our lines, for they never slackened their pace, and in consequence ran into the arms of a regiment of Rudarlian cavalry at the foot of the hill.
It was over very quickly, they had the discretion to surrender at once, with one exception. This one had, either through his horse, or for other reasons, ridden well behind his comrades, but he could not hope to escape by turning back up the hill, so instead, he made a dash for liberty, by jumping the bank which bordered the road towards the enemy's lines. I heard Woolgast give a grunt, and the next moment he had followed.
I sprang from my horse and stood on the higher ground looking after him. The ground over which he was riding sloped gently down to a stream below, on the other side of which the ground rose again and was well wooded, not with big trees, but small brushwood. Woolgast was at full charge after the flying Bornian, it was a magnificent sight to see the two horses stretching out, the one flying, the other in pursuit. The pursued turned in his saddle and fired, Woolgast swerved a little but kept on, ever drawing nearer. Some three lengths from the stream, he overtook the Bornian; we saw his sword flash once, and the enemy dropped from his horse. Then Woolgast, unable to stop his, urged him to the jump, and, slowly returning, jumped the stream again, and alighted. He walked up to the Bornian's body--which made a light blue patch among the stubble--and then reeled suddenly over on to the top of him.
He was not seriously hurt, thank God, but simply in a faint. When we turned the dead Bornian, so that we could see his face--it was Prince Alexis.
I confess that I felt relief at his death, he was so degraded that there was nothing he would not have stooped to do. I might have felt sorrow at the death of an ordinary enemy, but in the case of Alexis, no--simply relief.
Woolgast was evidently disturbed in his mind as to the consequence of his action, for he sent me word that he craved an audience.
He was in a state of feverish excitement, for the wound, although not severe, was a painful one.
"Well, General?" I said.