"Now, men, you know your part. Wait till we are over the bridge, then gallop up at full speed with sabres drawn and pistols cocked, ready for anything." "What about the four horses, Herr Capitan?" asked one of the troopers. "We must leave them. Tie their heads together and string them to that tree yonder: we may get them by and by; if not, the coach horses will serve. Now; all ready! Drive on, landlord." The two postilions—the foremost a stalwart dragoon—whipped up the horses, which dashed forward at a furious gallop towards the castle. It was a tight squeeze in the coach—Harry, Max, and the four big troopers jammed together in a narrow space. "Level your pistol, landlord!" cried Harry. The pale perspiring landlord held his harmless weapon in his left hand, covered by the loaded pistol of Max in the coach. On they drove, ploughing up the soil heavy with last night’s rain, the horses straining at the traces. They were within thirty yards of the bridge. "Shout, landlord!" said Harry in a loud whisper through the open window. "Here we are! here we are!" cried the man. "Louder!" "Here we are!" He almost shrieked the words. "The others are behind!" prompted Harry. "The others are behind!" cried the landlord. The sentry at the farther end of the bridge gave an answering shout; the boards that served for a gate were removed; the coach clattered and rumbled over the rocking creaking planks, and the postilions pulled up their reeking horses in the courtyard of the castle. *CHAPTER XXI* *Across the Fosse* Shoulder to Shoulder—Wrecking the Bridge—Well Found—The Dungeons of Rauhstein—The Castle Cook—The Enemy’s Plan—Unwilling Help—A Parley—The Bridge Builders—At Short Range—Supper—Counsel—Fireworks—Long Odds—A Rush—From a Sling—A Covered Way—Firing the Train—Shambles The shouting and the clatter of the coach had drawn the garrison into the courtyard. From these twenty men, the remnant of the brigand band, a great cheer went up, and they pressed forward eagerly to see the princely captive. Two or three of them were unarmed, but the rest, with the habit of seasoned warriors, had their swords in their belts and carbines slung at their shoulders. "Well done, Otto!" cried one, slapping the landlord on the back.