The distance between us decreased. I was catching him up hand over hand; the thing was amazing.
I hoped at first his manhood had come back to him, and that he waited purposely for me; but soon I recognized the truth.
One of the shots intended for me had struck his horse in the haunches, and the poor animal, losing blood at every stride, was growing feebler each succeeding moment.
The bandits--at least those who survived--were a little ahead of us; the pursuers were closing up again; my companion was doomed.
He knew it too. His face had become ashy grey, his eyes were wild and staring; the Count Beula of the breach and the battlefield had disappeared.
"They will hang me, Botskay," he wailed--"hang me like a common thief on the roadside."
The terror of the hempen noose, about which Batori had chaffed him, had affected his brain--upset his balance, so to speak. I can give no other explanation of his strange behaviour or of what happened immediately afterwards.
Batori, looking back, waved his arm to bid us ride faster; but Beula's horse was totally exhausted, and with one last ineffectual stagger forward it rolled over, entangling its rider in the reins.
A shout from the Austrians greeted this downfall, and the count's white face looked up appealingly.
"They will hang me, Botskay!" he cried, and I regarded the cry as one for help.