The Swedish muskets moved like one; their iron necks were stretched toward the Polish horsemen.
But before the muskets thundered, the Polish horsemen turned their horses and began to flee in a disorderly group.
“Forward!” cried Kanneberg.
The division moved forward on a gallop, so that the ground trembled under the heavy hoofs of the horses.
The forest was filled with the shouts of pursuers and pursued. After half an hour of chasing, either because the Swedish horses were better, or those of the Poles were wearied by some journey, the distance between the two bodies was decreasing.
But at once something wonderful happened. The Polish band, at first disorderly, did not scatter more and more as the flight continued, but on the contrary, they fled in ever better order, in ranks growing more even, as if the very speed of the horses brought the riders into line.
Sweno saw this, urged on his horse, reached Kanneberg, and called out,—
“Your worthiness, that is an uncommon party; those are regular soldiers, fleeing designedly and leading us to an ambush.”
“Will there be devils in the ambush, or men?” asked Kanneberg.
The road rose somewhat and became ever wider, the forest thinner, and at the end of the road was to be seen an unoccupied field, or rather a great open space, surrounded on all sides by a dense, deep gray pine-wood.