The peasant, who was lying on his face at the bottom of the boat, never felt less inclined to obey in his life, especially as fifty or sixty grenadiers appeared from behind the entrenchments, and began firing on the hussars.
"Dismount and guide the boat," said the old hussar, turning to the recruit.
The chasseur, seeing that the balls had no effect, ran down to the rope, which he cut with his sword, as the hussars reached the middle of the stream, and the boat was consequently borne back again by the current. The old hussar, swearing that he was not done with them yet, gloomily reascended the bank with his companion, and galloping back to his troop, which was concealed in a wood at a little distance, he reported himself to the captain.
"What news, Gergo?" asked Gejza—for it was he.
"It would not do, captain, as I said before; they did not like our numbers, so they cut the rope when we were half over; they might have allowed me to cross if I had been alone."
"Never mind, Gergo—how did we get over the water before boats were made?"
"Ah, I thought of that, captain dear; but it is my duty to obey, and not to argue."
"Now, lads, whoever likes a bath may follow me!" cried the young soldier, and, spurring his horse, he galloped towards the river followed by his troop.
It was a beautiful sight to see the hundred and fifty hussars go through the water, like a flock of wild birds through the air—only their horses' heads above the foam, and the breeze tossing about the plumes of their red csakos.
The grenadiers having fired one volley with little or no effect, suddenly retired, and were at some distance when the hussars reached the opposite bank.