"Elijen Batori!" shouted the bandits, and their leader smiled.
The Austrians in the rear were spurring hard; but we took no notice of them, our attention being fixed on those in front. Could we break them?
I had taken part in more than one cavalry charge against long odds, and to me the feat seemed impossible.
Batori, however, showed little anxiety; while his men were almost as cool as he was.
Sword in hand, Count Beula took his place on the right of the leader; I rode at his left.
There were no unnecessary orders. Every man knew he had to pierce that body of cavalry somehow, or be hanged to the nearest tree; and if the knowledge did not bring true courage, it at least sent every one into the fight with a determination to get through.
The bandits couched their lances, and dug their spurs deeply into the horses' sides. Batori, who was evidently a superb horseman, rode without using the reins, having a sword in one hand and a loaded pistol in the other.
The Austrians bided their time; and, as we drew nearer, it flashed into my mind that their leader, who, but for a terrible scar across his face, would have been a handsome man, was none other than my old opponent, Von Theyer.
There was likely to be a very short shrift for me if I fell into his hands; and, unfortunately, my uniform rendered me conspicuous. However, I had little time to think about what might happen; I was too much engaged in what was happening.
Count Beula struck the enemy first, and, but for a shot from Batori's pistol, that moment would have ended his career. I wished later it had.