And now whither? That was the anxious query of the deserting squadron of hussars.
On one side was the whole army, from among whose banners they had wrested their own; on the other were two rivers, the Danube and the March, and beyond them a mountain range, the Carpathians.
For an hour and a half they followed a bridle-path through the fields, knowing only that they were riding toward the Danube. Then the sky began to clear, and they were able to determine their position more exactly. On the right lay the river like a dark mirror under the scurrying clouds.
"Now, boys," said Richard, when he had his men all before him, "we have begun a march which will take us either home or to destruction. I have to warn you—what you know well enough already—that we are about to face every sort of peril and hardship. We must ride day and night without a halt, swim rivers, climb mountains, bear hunger, thirst, and want of sleep, and be prepared to fight for our lives at every step. He who faints by the way is lost; he will be taken prisoner and shot. I ask no man to follow me. I shall go ahead without turning back to see how many of my two hundred and twenty men are behind me. I require no oath of you. It is dark, and whoever chooses to turn back may do so when I start to lead the way; but when the sun rises, let all who are with me then understand that they are thenceforward under military discipline, and bound to obey my orders without murmur or complaint. Now then, follow me who will! This is the first test."
The first test was calculated to make the faint-hearted, if such there were, shrink with fear. The Danube was to be forded. Richard was familiar with the region from his earlier military manœuvres, and he knew the river's shoals and bars. For him and his old hussars it was mere play to cross the stream without bridge or ferry; but the less experienced might well fear to breast its waters in the dark, encumbered as they were with their arms.
A young poplar grove received the horsemen on the farther side, and here their leader caused them to be counted by the sergeant-major.
"Two hundred and twenty," reported that officer, after completing the count.
"Impossible!" exclaimed Richard; "we left two men behind as sentinels."
"Here we are!" sounded a familiar bass, which was at once recognised as old Paul's.
"That you, Paul? How did you overtake us so soon, and what news from the camp?"