Night was fast closing in by now, and in the darkness I missed the bridge over the Maros River, which made me lose nearly two hours, and prevented me from striking the trail of the 9th Honveds.
However, I found the bridge at last, and, crossing to the other side, pursued my way at hap-hazard as long as my horse could keep going; then I sat down by the roadside and waited for the morning.
At sunrise I started again, leading the animal by its bridle, until a lucky chance brought me to a village.
It was a small place, containing not more than twenty houses at the outside; but it boasted an inn, where I might haply procure food for myself and horse.
Four men dressed in peasants' clothes, but having a distinctly military bearing, sat on the "word-bearer"--the bench placed against the wall of most Hungarian country houses--gossiping. At sight of my uniform (for I had unfastened my mantle) they sprang to their feet and approached me with bare heads.
My suspicions were at once verified, and I exclaimed, "You have done well, my lads. A free Magyar is worth more than an imprisoned one. Only, should the Austrians pass through, slouch your shoulders and stoop a little; you bear the marks of the drill-sergeant too plainly."
They smiled at one another, and one taking my horse led it through the courtyard into the stable behind the inn.
Another spoke my name, and though I could not remember their features, they claimed to belong to the old regiment.
He who had attended to my horse was the keeper of the inn, which he now respectfully invited me to enter.
Bidding the others come too, I questioned them concerning their colonel, while the hostess prepared a meal.