“Make your mind easy! I've forgotten nothing. Just keep your beasts quiet till I get up.”
I drew nigh as he was about to mount, and whispered a word in his ear.
“I don't know,” said he, gruffly. “I can't see why you should ask.”
“Why don't you get up?” cried the youth, impatiently.
“There's a young fellow here importuning me to ask you for a place in the wagon. He thinks he knows this stranger.”
“Let him get in at once, then; and let's have no more delays.” And scarcely had we scrambled to our places, than the loud whip resounded with the quick, sharp report of pistol-shots, and the beasts sprung out at once, rushed through the narrow gateway, and were soon stretching along at their topmost pace through impenetrable blackness.
Crouching in the straw at the bottom of the wagon, I crept as closely as I could to where the doctor was seated beside the young man who drove. I was eager to hear what I could of the incident that had befallen; but, to my great disappointment, they spoke in Hungarian, and all I could gather, from certain dropping expressions, was that both the Count and his English friend had been engaged in some rivalry of personal daring, and that the calamity had come of this insane contest. “They'll never say 'Mad as a Hunyadi' any longer up at Lees. They 'll say 'Mad as an Englishman.'”
The young fellow spoke in wondrous admiration of the wounded man's courage and coolness, and described how he had taught them to pass a light ligature round his thigh, and tighten it further by inserting a stick to act as a screw. “Up to that,” said he, “he had been bleeding like a tapped Wein-kass; and then he made them give him large goblet» of strong Bordeaux, to sustain him.”
“He's a bold-hearted fellow then?” said the doctor.
“The Count declares he has never met his equal. They were alone together when I started, for the Englishman said he had something for the Count's own ear, and begged the others to withdraw.”