As he passed along the street with his escort, he saw a number of horses approaching, apparently from being watered. The first, a fine charger lighter in build than the average cavalry horse of the period, was led by a groom, who at this moment tethered the animal to a post a few yards from his commandant’s cottage. The trooper into whose custody Fanshawe had been confided was marching on his right hand, carrying not only his own carbine but the prisoner’s sword and pistols. Fanshawe saw a bare chance of escape and unhesitatingly took it. With a sudden movement he deftly tripped the man up, sprang to the post, unhitched the reins, and before the onlookers could collect their scattered wits was on the horse’s back and twenty yards down the road. There was a great hubbub behind him; fortunately none of the troopers was at that time armed. Suddenly he bethought him of the vedette whom the extreme caution of the commandant had doubtless caused to be posted in the rear of his force. He might come upon him at any moment. Taking the first turning to the right he set spurs to his steed, dashed along a lane, leapt a fence, and plunged into an orchard. From his study of the map previous to his ride with Marlborough’s message he remembered that Gros Heppach lay on the Göppingen road, to the north-east of his present position. If he could strike this by a path over the hills he might yet succeed. He spurred on, the rising sun enabling him to choose the easiest ground, and by and by came upon a rough country track leading in the right direction. He galloped along at break-neck pace, and gaining a little eminence, his eyes were gladdened by the sight of white tents dotting the valley some three miles below him. He sped down the hill, and soon came plump upon a Dutch outpost, which had evidently seen him from afar and prepared to stop him. Reining up, he asked to be taken at once to Lord Marlborough. The Dutchman did not insist on explanations, recognizing him as an English officer, but sent a man at once to conduct him to headquarters. He had but just reached the outer circle of the camp, when he saw Colonel Cadogan riding slowly along in company with another officer whom he did not recognize. Without hesitation he rode up to the colonel, saluted, and begged to be allowed a word with him. His explanation was soon made, and to his surprise Cadogan burst into a great laugh and cried in French: "This concerns your highness. The troopers who played the trick on the brigands, and that young daredevil Rochester, are trapped in a castle." "Nom d’un tonnerre!" cried Prince Eugene. "Are they not relieved? I ordered a detachment of Würtembergers to ride out to them two days ago as I passed through Stuttgart. What has become of them?" "It appears," said Cadogan, still laughing, "that they are on the road, but the colonel is learned in the art of war and is advancing by strategical moves."