It was with the greatest difficulty that the men were kept in rank, such was their impatience.
A single horseman now came riding toward them. "Hurrah! Rothsattel!" cried he, while still at a distance.
"Sturm!" called out a dozen voices; and Anton sprang forward to greet his ally.
"We have them," said Karl. "They had occupied the Rosmin high road, but I led our men by by-paths through the woods."
A dark mass was visible at the end of the village, with riders in advance. The enemy halted and assembled in the farm-yard.
"Now for it!" cried Fink.
The garrison marched at a quick pace over the meadow, placed themselves sideways near the first barn, and a salvo from five-and-twenty guns burst upon the flank of the enemy, who fell into confusion and fled across the plain. Again the trumpet sounded, behind them the hussars came galloping up, and cut down those that still kept their ground. Karl joined them, and vanished in the fray. The enemy were thus driven into the fields.
The Polish cavalry now sprang forward from the village, at their head the spokesman of the morning, who with loud shouts urged his men against the hussars.
"Rothsattel!" cried a youthful voice close to Anton, and, heading a detachment of hussars, a tall, slight officer rushed against the Poles. Fink raised his rifle and aimed at the Polish colonel.
"Thanks!" cried he, reeling on his horse, firing his pistol with his last breath at the breast of the hussar who was riding him down. The hussar fell from his horse, and the Pole's charger galloped away with his master's lifeless body.