No one spoke, and hardly a sound was heard as the column wound its stealthy way along.
By this time the cannonade had ceased, and it seemed also as if the sorely-harassed garrison had ventured to take a short rest. Tramp, tramp, we marched along, pausing at intervals to give the rear of the column time to close up.
The men with the scaling-ladders were out of sight, but we kept on in the weird and eerie darkness, expecting every moment to see the flash of the rockets, and to hear the thunder of the guns.
All was, however, silent, and I wondered we had come across no sign of the other columns.
I don't know why it should have done so, but the truth suddenly flashed into my mind--we had lost our way.
I spoke to the colonel, and it was obvious he shared my opinion.
"Yes," said he quietly. "We certainly ought to be in touch with them by now. Run forward and question the guides."
I did so with difficulty, but might have spared myself the trouble. They had lost their heads completely, and were painfully groping their way, now in this direction, now that.
Remembering Stephen's scornful words about Count Beula losing the route in the dark, I dared not speak to my brother, but hurried back to Rakoczy.
I had barely told him the story, when far on the left the guns roared out. Bright flashes of flame leaped from their muzzles, telling us that the garrison was on the alert, and that we were not at hand to help our comrades.