They were advised by a good-natured member of the commissary department not to venture too far beyond the line of patrols, and Stanislaws gave them to understand that he expected to be ready to start within the next three hours.
"We'll be here on time all right, Stanny," called Billy, clucking his pony into a smart canter, following the lead of his similarly mounted friends.
The one who was left behind had no reckoning then that he need not have hurried in his packing.
The roads traversed by the riders were deep in slush and mud because of a thaw, but the fresh ponies reveled in the going, and it was not long before a tempting range of harder ground extended the gallop further afield.
"Say, boys," suddenly remarked Schneider, rising in the stirrups for a survey of their whereabouts, "I think we have gone about far enough, and must take the back-track immediately."
"Wait a moment," urged Henri, "there's a man waving to us over there."
Schneider, looking in the direction indicated by the boy at his side, saw it was a peasant who was making the friendly motions to attract their attention.
"What's the word, my friend?"
The peasant spread out his hands in gesture of cordial yet humble greeting. "My house is near" (pointing eastward over the plain). "It is yours."
"The sun is yet high, let's go over and see the house of his nobs," gayly proposed Billy.