In less time than it takes to tell it the two cavalry officers were in the saddle and galloping furiously by a back-road to the village. A savage yell resounded from the castle. From one of the lighted windows of the wing several shots were fired, but the bullets whistled harmlessly past the riders' ears; the bewildering moonlight prevented the marksmen from aiming truly. "Our flight is discovered. The forest is our only chance. This way!" Kurt cried, as he drove the spurs into his horse's sides and turned towards a narrow forest road that led by a longer roundabout way to the village. The captain followed; but just as he entered the woods several shots again flashed from the castle window; he wavered in his saddle: a bullet had struck him in the side; he grasped his horse's mane with his right hand, and managed to keep his seat and continue his furious gallop after Kurt. The fugitives succeeded at last in gaining the open beyond the wood, but here Kurt first noticed his companion's convulsive grip of his horse's mane and his failing exertions to keep himself upright in the saddle. "Are you wounded?" he asked, anxiously. There was no reply. Loss of blood had produced unconsciousness, and Kurt caught his captain in his arms just in time to prevent him from falling from his horse. He dismounted with his lifeless burden, and, laying it upon the grass beneath a tree, looked about for help. He remembered that a mounted sentinel had been stationed here, where the forest road ended in the open; but there was no horseman to be seen. He could not have deserted his post; a brief inspection of the surrounding field in the moonlight showed him that the soldier had been true to his duty; he was lying dead in a pool of blood at a little distance; his horse was nowhere to be seen, probably his murderers had carried it off. What was to be done? Every moment of delay was ruin. The enemy had discovered the flight of the two officers, there were horses enough to be had for pursuit, and, although Kurt's short experience of his steed had convinced him that he need not dread this for himself, he could not desert his captain; how was he to be carried to a place of safety? Duty called Kurt to Assais, where, as a few straggling shots informed him, the fray had already begun, and duty forbade his abandoning his wounded captain to the pursuing franctireurs. He could not delay, the moments were priceless. "To Assais!" he exclaimed to himself. The outnumbered Uhlans there needed a leader, who might perhaps save some few from captivity and death; the captain himself would never have hesitated to sacrifice his life for his men; had he been conscious he would surely have ordered his lieutenant to leave him to his fate.