"Hang him instantly—he is a traitor!"
The rest of the gang immediately seized the culprit and carried him to the nearest tree, from whence his shrieks soon testified that the sentence was being put in execution.
The Decurio remained alone with the young man; and hastily lifting him, still senseless, from the ground, he mounted his horse, and placing him before him, ere the savage horde had returned, he had galloped to some distance along the road from whence the youth had come, covering him with his mantle as he passed the bridge, to conceal him from several of the gang who stood there, and exclaiming: "Follow me to Topanfalva."
As soon as they were out of sight, he suddenly turned to the left, down a steep hilly path, and struck into the depth of the forest.
The morning sun had just shot its first beams across the hills, tinting with golden hues the reddening autumn leaves, when the young hussar began to move in his fevered dreams, and murmured the name "Jolanka."
In a few moments he opened his eyes. He was lying in a small chamber, through the only window of which the sunbeams shone upon his face.
The bed on which he lay was made of lime-boughs, simply woven together, and covered with wolves' skins. A gigantic form was leaning against the foot of the bed with his arms folded, and as the young man awoke, he turned round. It was the Decurio.
"Where am I?" asked the young man, vaguely endeavouring to recall the events of the past night.
"In my house," replied the Decurio.