No man spoke or moved.
"Then are we comrades, and do not growl among ourselves," said Ellerey, springing into his saddle. "Forward! You must find some other carrier for your message, Stefan."
"And soon, or I'll have murder on my soul," was the answer, as the troop rode singly out of the hollow and picked its way along a forest track.
It was high noon before they chanced upon a woodcutter and his boy.
"Give me leave, Captain," said Stefan, bringing his horse to a standstill. "Here's one may take my message. Aye there, how far is it to Sturatzberg by the shortest road?"
"Five miles by foot, but riding you'll scarce do it in ten," answered the woodcutter. "Will you or the lad carry a message there?"
"To-morrow I would. I go with a team there, taking timber."
"To-morrow," mused Stefan. "Why not? He'll last until then. Well, then, to-morrow. Here's a key. Take it to the Altstrasse. Do you know the Altstrasse?"
"Surely. I have a brother living there."
"To the Altstrasse—thirteen—to the house of Monsieur De Froilette."