Nigel and his comrade were hungry too, and having satisfied the hunger for food, he summoned the ostler, taking him inside and questioning him if travellers had passed that way earlier in the morning.
"Three! Two stayed on the road. The third came for a small truss of hay and paid for it and went away again. He was not of these parts."
"Which road did he take?"
"The road to Eger."
Nigel asked other questions, but the answer told him nothing except that he got a minute description of the man and of the horse, the latter more particularly being the ostler's business. It was a sorrel with one black hoof and three white. There were other marks, but that was enough.
Evidently the travellers were going far, and wished to go fast, and not to call at any inn for the space of a horse's feed and watering.
Nigel wasted no time getting to horse again. One of those three had the despatches. He must overtake them. So he rode on briskly, wondering who would steal them and why. To the first question he answered: "The Protestants! For they would be in communication with Gustavus, and would wish to be beforehand in the matter of Tilly's plans."
But why should they take the road to Eger when Gustavus was far to the north? Rather should they ride north to Saxony. The road, however, was plain enough along the valley of the Elster, always rising a little, and steep hillsides on either bank. Of bridle-tracks there were many without doubt, for those who knew the intricacies of the pine-covered hills. But it was not likely the three unknown would take to them.
At Adorf, Nigel learned that three horsemen had passed an hour before. He was gaining upon them then. His men were somewhat surprised that the march was being forced, but they scented rest and a German trooper's welcome at Eger. Ten miles farther they had gained another half-hour. Either the three had become careless, or their horses were tired, or they were poor horsemen. Nigel would have them in the net at Eger, and rode at a great pace. At one point, where the road took a wide bend, he even caught sight of three horses, mere little black spots on the white line of the road, and then he lost them. Trees intervened. At the long last he saw them clearly enough pass through the gate of Eger, and in a few minutes he and his troop clattered through the archway, and saw only that the town had swallowed them up. There was still a sorrel horse with one black hoof and three white ones for a clue.
Nigel bade the lieutenant find quarters for the night, and let the men eat and enjoy themselves. He also privately instructed Sergeant Blick to find the sorrel horse and not miss getting into converse with its rider, nor let him go before he could see him. Then he rode up to the castle, the citadel of the town. He sought the commandant, and was surprised to find in him a fellow-countryman, one David Gordon, a lean, lantern-jawed fellow, whose uniform bespoke the professional soldier, but whose talk reminded Nigel of the ultra-sanctimonious burghers of Edinburgh, on whom the spirit of Knox in its narrowness had descended, but not the fire of his conviction, while gaining a smoky stubbornness and sourness of which Knox would have been little proud.