[CHAPTER XXII.]
THE DRAGON'S GORGE.
Nigel Charteris prayed for the fall of night. Night and the forest could save him and his handful. Night and the forest would enable Elspeth to lead them to the Wartburg more swiftly than any horsemen could make their way.
Nigel prayed, but with him to pray was to labour. In a moment he was back again at the hinder end of the gorge and drew out his two men. In another moment they had spread forty yards apart, secure behind wide boles of trees on either side of the direction taken by the Count. Then a pause came. The Count and his followers rode stealthily forward. They were evidently making a flank movement, but whether of departure or of surprise, it was not clear to Nigel. Either was undesirable. Two puffs of smoke, two shots rang out, two of the Bohemians fell from their saddles. Six or seven of their comrades fired wildly in the direction of the smoke. But Nigel's outposts had scuttled and taken up other positions. Again two shots rang out, this time more in the rear of the Count's party. One hit a horse, the other a rider. There was prancing and rearing, and three riderless horses tore back breakneck in the direction they had come. The Count shouted hoarsely, bidding his men dismount and search. Nigel ran swiftly back and called to Blick and his comrade to follow the gorge to its hinder issue and await him. It may be imagined how Blick splashed through the water and reached the trembling Elspeth, who, standing as high as she could out of reach of the blood-stained water, was trembling all over at the unseen danger she ran.
Blick was for killing the Count, but this Nigel forbade, though there was justification enough. As far as his own deserters that was another matter. He wished to scatter them, disable them in detail, to avoid a hand-to-hand combat where numbers must tell against his little band, and gain time. The two outposts had fallen back upon the hinder mouth of the gorge. One was stationed behind Elspeth to keep the pass. The other three with Blick again spread out and lay perdu until the searchers came near, so near that the muskets of Nigel's men could scarcely fail to hit. Then one by one their voices spoke, reverberating through the forest, given back by the rocks, repeated by other rocks, and again howls and curses rent the air. The Bohemian deserters ran crouching here and there firing at trees they deemed men. And twice again the hidden marksmen hit the mark, and the Count, watched carefully by Nigel, was at his wits' end. With this kind of warfare he was plainly unfamiliar. He alone remained by his horse in company with a knot of five or six besides his body-servant. His guards were on the alert with their muskets ready to fire at the least sign, and every now and again a shot from one of Nigel's holster pistols came whistling about their ears, sufficiently near to increase the strain of their attention and make them feel, despite their knowledge of Nigel's strength, that the forest was full of enemies.
Once, twice, shots came perilously near hitting Nigel, but his advantage of the thicker cover saved him. Meanwhile Sergeant Blick managed his force of sharpshooters with amazing dexterity, advancing, retiring, picking off a man here or there. And the twilight came, less a state of light than of gloom. And the smoke of the powder hung just below the foliage, making everything uncertain. Nigel began to smell victory instead of merely a skilful retreat. The orders were, at the end of every three fusilades to reassemble at the gorge. Nigel led his men almost crawling through the bushes till they had the Count and his body-guard within easy musket-shot. The rest were scattered, as Blick had well contrived.
Then at a word four shots rang out together. Four men of the guard fell wounded or dead, and with a rush at the Count, sword in hand, Nigel put the finishing touch, for the Count in consternation threw down his own. The rest of his immediate followers grovelled on the ground and were quickly disarmed and bound. As for the others, who had grown dispirited by the slaughter and their wild-goose chase among the trees, as one by one they became acquainted with the culminating disaster, they slunk back to the rearguard, seized a horse apiece, and rode back on a harrying expedition of their own, which boded ill for Pastor Rad and his flock. Some, that is to say, for others were of that spirit which must follow a master, as a dog prefers the company of man. These threw down their muskets at the brusque command of Blick, and a few minutes afterwards Blick had them on horseback without weapons, his own men in front and rear and the riderless horses beside them, awaiting the command to march. Elspeth, all cheerfulness again, stood waiting. Nigel and the Count were a little way off.
"There is no quarrel between us, Count!" said Nigel. "We have broken bread together in the house of our friend the Abbot of Fulda!"