"He's done for," tremulously whispered Henri, wondering why the soldier onlookers did not interfere, and eager to make a saving move himself. Then, as though a whole row of wine glasses had been riven by a knife stroke, the Cossack's blade, cleft near the haft by a biting downward cut of the saber, fell tinkling at his feet. This was the last flare of Schneider's waning strength, of which, however, the Cossack was apparently unaware. He did not wait to meet an expected heart thrust from the victor. With a piercing yell, he turned, waved the sword stump about his head, and leaped far out into the void before him. Schneider, on hand and knee, game, but all in, as the saying is, mournfully shook his head, and faintly murmured: "He would have had another chance to finish." Stanislaws, something of a surgeon, stanched the blood welling from the wounds of his comrade, applied bandages, and soon had the fallen fighter on his feet. The Cossack's mount had disappeared, a fact first noticed by the acute Roque. "Mark you," he predicted, "that riderless horse will be sure to stir up a wasps' nest, and somebody here will get stung if we attempt to hold this position. Schneider's punctures are enough for one day." Roque's prediction was a sure shot, for he had hardly ceased speaking when a score or more of horsemen charged from the cover of a rocky defile and bore down in force upon the aviation party. "To your places!" thundered Roque. The pilots of the several aëroplanes were already making ready for hurried flight, and Henri, in addition, had assisted the wounded and weakened Schneider to his seat in their machine. Breckens, Bishoff and Mendell emptied their carbines and revolvers in the direction of the oncoming lancers, clearing a saddle or two, and swung into the rigging of the waiting biplanes just in time to permit a clean getaway. Right over the brink of the precipice the start was made--it had to be the quickest way--and a thousand feet of ascent gained without an upturn. Circling about on high the soldier-observers scattered the horsemen on the plateau with a shower of bombs. Schneider had had his innings, and returned in full measure all that was owing. CHAPTER XVI. DRAWN FROM THE DEPTHS. "WELL, Mr. Roque, if you did not get Filimonoff this trip, you struck mighty close to him, for I'll warrant the man whom Schneider vanquished was a leader in the Cossack horde." "And something of a fighter, you might add, Stanislaws," rejoined the secret agent. "But there's another day, and the kingpin and I may yet lock horns." The aviation party was again at Galician headquarters, and the interesting invalid, Schneider, was already declaring that he was as good as ever. Roque had a grouch, chafing because of the delay of the Austrian forces in getting through to the relief of Przemysl.