"Look here, patron," said Mausmann to Ödön, "we have but one round of ammunition left, and when that is gone we are lost. But there's a bridge yonder which we can easily hold, and the cavalry can't get through the bog to surround us. And now, boys, swear that you'll save this last shot, and from now on receive the enemy with your bayonets." Thereupon the still undaunted students knelt on the highway, and, with upraised right hands, sang an oath from some opera chorus--perhaps it was from "Beatrice"--resolved to play their parts well till the ringing down of the curtain. Then they took possession of the bridge, and were preparing to receive the enemy's cavalry on the points of their bayonets, when all at once the horsemen slackened their pace and seemed stricken with a sudden panic. Out from the thicket that bordered the road broke a squadron of hussars, and by a flank attack scattered the cuirassiers in all directions. The fight was over for that day. The enemy sounded the retreat, and the Hungarians were left to go their way unmolested. The hussars turned back to the bridge, led by their captain, a tall and muscular young man with flashing eyes and a smile that played constantly about his mouth. Two of the young men on the bridge recognised that face and form. Those two were Ödön and Mausmann. "Hurrah! Baradlay! Richard Baradlay!" cried the student, throwing his cap high in the air, and rushing to meet his old acquaintance. In the warmth of his welcome he nearly pulled the other from his horse. Then Ödön came forward, and the two brothers, who had not met for six years, fell into each other's arms, while hussars and legionaries embraced and kissed one another, each with words of praise on his tongue for the other. "Heaven must have sent you to us!" exclaimed Ödön. "If you hadn't come when you did, you would have been by this time the head of the family." "God forbid!" cried Richard. "But what are you doing here? The secretary of war bade me give you a good scolding for exposing your life when you are commissary-general and your place is with the transport wagons. You were not sent out to fight, and you have a young wife and infant children dependent on you. Have you forgotten them, unfeeling man? Just wait till I tell mother what you are up to!" As he spoke he grew suddenly serious. "Dear mother!" he exclaimed; "she must have foreseen this when she came to me and bade me hasten hither to your side." CHAPTER XVIII. GREGORY BOKSA. The night after the battle Ödön and Richard passed in a neighbouring village, and both were engaged until morning in restoring such order as they could among the defeated troops. "If we could only offer them something to eat," said Richard. "The smell of a good roast would rally the men quickly enough."