Early next morning, on perceiving that his captives had escaped, Father Gregory was terribly alarmed, imagining that they would now bring back the whole robber band against him; and, hastening immediately to collect the whole of the pilgrims, loaded wagons with the most necessary provisions and the treasures of the altar, conducted them among the hills, and there concealed them in the Cavern of Balina, carrying the sick members of his flock one by one across the mountain-streams in front of the cavern and depositing them in the majestic rocky chamber, which more than once had served the inhabitants of the surrounding districts as a place of refuge from the Tartars, having a large open roof through which the smoke could get out, while a stream flowing through it kept them well supplied with drinking-water. In an hour's time fires and ovens, made from fresh leaves and mown grass, stood ready in the midst of the place of refuge; and on a stone pedestal, in the background, always standing ready for such a purpose, an altar was erected.
Meanwhile Kökényesdi had hastened to overtake his bands which had scattered at the word of the brother in order to re-unite them before the people of Klausenburg could capture them in detail. Szénasi he dispatched to call back the wanderers who had been sent to the cellars of Eger and besiege the monastery.
When Szénasi returned with the two hundred hungry men he only found empty walls, and to make them emptier still—he burnt them down to the ground.
He then sat down, and by the light of the conflagration wrote a sarcastic letter to Teleki, in which he informed him with a great show of humility that he had made the required diversion against Transylvania, that he kissed his hand, that he might command him at any future time, and that he was his most humble servant.
He had scarcely sent off the letter by a Wallachian gipsy, picked up on the road, when he saw a company of horsemen galloping towards the burning monastery, and recognised in the foremost fugitive Kökényesdi.
"It is all up with us!" cried the robber chief from afar, "we are surrounded. All the parsons in the world have become soldiers, and turned their swords against us as if they were Bibles. The Calvinist pastor, the Catholic friar, the Greek priest, and the Unitarian minister—every man jack of them has placed himself at the head of the faithful, and are coming against us with at least twenty thousand men: students, artisans and peasants, the whole swarm is rushing upon us. I and fifty more were set upon by the whole Guild of Shoemakers, who cut down twenty of my men; they were all as mad as hatters, and when the peasants had done with us, the gentlemen took us up: they united with the German dragoons, and pursued my flying army on horseback. Every bit of booty, every slave they have torn from us; this Calvinist Joshua is always close on my heels, not a single one of our infantry can be saved."
The robber chief behaved as the leader of robber bands usually do behave. When he had to fight, he fought among the foremost; but when he had to run, then also he was well to the front. When he was beaten, he cared not a jot whether the others got off scot-free, he only thought of saving himself.
When he had announced the catastrophe from horseback to the terrified Szénasi, he clapped spurs to his nag, and, without looking back to see whether anyone was following him, he galloped off, and left Szénasi in the lurch with the footmen.
The fox is always most crafty when he falls into the snare. The perplexed hypocrite perceived that however quickly he might try to escape, the cavalry would overtake him at Grosswardein and mow him down. Unfortunately, he knew not how to ride, and therefore could not hope to save himself that way. Already the trumpets of the Transylvanian bands were blaring all around him; fiery beacons of pitchy pines were beginning to blaze out from mountain-top to mountain-top; on every road were visible the flying comrades of Kökényesdi, terrifying one another with their shouts of alarm as they rushed through the woods and valleys, not daring to take refuge among the snowy Alps, where the axes of the enraged Wallachians flashed before their eyes; and there was not a single road on which they did not run the risk of being trampled down by the Hungarian banderia and the German dragoons.
In that moment of despair Szénasi quickly flung himself into the garments of a peasant, climbed up to the top of a tree, and as soon as he perceived the first band of German horsemen approaching him, he called out to them.