"Fly, sir, fly," cried the faithful guide, and placed himself in a position of defence with his axe. Albert drew his sword, and, in a moment, was attacked by five men, whilst his companion was engaged with three others hand to hand. The confined spot where this rencontre took place prevented Albert profiting by the advantage he otherwise would have had over his opponents. One of them seized his bridle, but, in the same moment, Albert's blade fell with such force on his head that he sank to the ground without a groan; the others, furious at the loss of their companion, pressed him with increased vigour, calling out to him to surrender; but, though Albert began to bleed copiously from many wounds he had already received in his arms and legs, he answered only by fresh blows. "Dead or alive," cried one of the combatants, "if the Duke will have it so, let him take the consequences!" and with these words a heavy blow on the head, brought Albert von Sturmfeder from his horse to the ground. His eyes closed in a state of fainting stupor, but he still was sufficiently conscious, to feel himself raised and carried away, amidst the sarcastic jeers of his opponents, who appeared to triumph and rejoice over their royal captive, as they supposed him to be. He was placed on the ground shortly after, when a horseman galloped up, dismounted, and spoke to the men who carried him. Albert, having somewhat recovered from the violence of the stunning blow he had received, opened his eyes and surveyed the surrounding group. An unknown figure bent over him, as if to examine his features. "Who have we here?" said this man: "this is not him we are looking for--leave him to his fate; we must hurry away without loss of time--alarm is already spread in Neuffen, and the garrison is on the alert." Falling again into a state of stupor from excessive weakness, Albert closed his eyes a second time, his ear only was alive to the confused sound of indistinct voices, which soon were hushed into dead silence, and he was left alone. The damp ground of the meadow chilled his limbs, but a sweet slumber coming to his aid, he sank under it, his beloved Bertha occupying his last thought. CHAPTER XIV. The Swabian League displays her mighty power, Her warriors people many a castle wall, Her banners wave from many an ancient tower, And every city answers to her call. Alone, will Tübingen no homage proffer, But stand apart, and grim resistance offer. G. SCHWAB.