"What can we do to escape them?" cried my mother, wringing her hands in an agony of terror. Then turning to my father she continued: "Whatever happens they must not take the children. Save them at any hazard."
Even in that moment of danger she gave no thought to herself. It will always remain my firm conviction that she would have yielded up her own life joyfully, if by so doing she could have been sure of saving ours.
"There is nothing for it but for us to hide in the trees and take our chance," began my father, for once coming forward with a suggestion. "If we are perfectly quiet and the snow covers our tracks, it is just possible that they may not become aware of our presence."
In order that you may understand the value of the idea, it should be explained that the trees of which the wood was composed were a species of pine—I cannot recall their botanical name—with long, low branches that stretched out and touched the ground on every side. It was within the bounds of possibility that if we scrambled in among the snow-laden boughs and crouched down, our presence might not be observed, but it was a very slender chance upon which to trust our lives. However, within a few seconds of the man's sounding the alarm, we were all stowed away out of sight. I scrambled into a tree with my mother and Max; my father, Gabriel, and my mother's woman were hidden in another; while the remainder of the party distributed themselves as best they could. Then followed another interval of suspense, during which we expected to hear every moment the tramp of the soldiers' chargers on the snow, and to find a lance come driving into the tree to turn us out. With anxious eyes we watched the tell-tale footmarks on the ground, knowing that upon them our lives depended. Heaven be thanked, however, the snow was falling fast, and every second's delay meant a greater chance of safety. A quarter of an hour went by and still the troopers did not come. The delay was difficult to account for. Had the man made a mistake when he had said that he had seen them preparing to search the wood? I had turned my face up to my mother's and was about to address a remark to her on the subject, when a look of terror flashed into her face, and she had clapped her hand upon my mouth to prevent me from speaking. It was well that she did, for, looking through the branches, I saw coming towards us, and not a dozen paces distant, a stalwart cavalryman, mounted upon a bay horse. He was covered by a heavy cloak and had a bundle of hay tied behind his saddle. As he rode toward the tree in which we lay hidden, he hummed a song, the words of which we could plainly distinguish. That he noticed nothing unusual about the ground, and that he was not troubling himself very much on our account, was as plain as his appearance there. At any rate, he passed us without becoming aware how close we were to him. A moment later we heard him call to his companion to know if he had discovered anything.
"I've got the ague, I believe," the other answered. "That's all I've found. I wish his Majesty had discovered it instead of me."
"He's worse off than you are, I'll be bound," returned the first speaker with a considerable amount of truth. "For my part, I wouldn't change places with him."
Then the voice of the officer in command interrupted them. Five minutes later they had left the wood and were on their way along the road upon the other side. We were saved! But it was some time before we recovered from our fright.
An hour later we crossed the Border, and in less than two hours we had placed ourselves under the protection of King George of Gota. Our leave-taking of the brave innkeeper and his equally brave friends the smugglers was of an affecting description. For once my father dropped his cynicism and spoke his mind direct. My mother added her thanks to his, and distributed her rings among the men in token of the gratitude she felt for the service they had rendered us. If we had no other friends in Pannonia we had at least four upon whom we knew we might depend.