"Here's that fellow again," growled the Colonel. "He shan't escape this time, anyhow."
He discharged his pistol full at the General's broad breast, but the ball glanced off as if from a rock, and the next moment Colonel Von Arnheim and his horse were rolling in the dust together, under the very feet of the Swedish pikemen.
"Don't hurt him, on your lives!" roared the General. "Take him to my tent, and keep him safe till I come."
"Ha!" muttered the Colonel, "I ought to know that voice. A strange adventure, truly, if this be indeed he!"
But all his doubts were ended a few hours later when the Swedish General came striding into the tent, and holding out his huge brown hand, said, with a broad grin,
"Do you know me, friend Moritz?"
"John Banner, sure enough!" cried Von Arnheim, grasping the offered hand cordially. "Well, I see you're still 'the boy who can't be hurt,' for I'm certain I saw my bullet hit you right on the breast."
"Hitting's not killing," answered Banner, throwing open his uniform, and showing a breastplate of fine steel underneath. "I've had many a narrower escape than that since I climbed for the nest at Hornelen."
"Well, speaking for myself, I'm very glad you have escaped," said the Colonel; "but for the sake of Austria and the imperial flag, I rather wish that heap of straw hadn't been there."
Banner answered with a hearty laugh, and the two old comrades, thus strangely reunited, spent a very merry evening together.