A score of Cossacks threw themselves on their horses and gave chase, discharging their pieces in the darkness as they rode. An occasional flash of lightning revealed the fugitive ahead of them, and stimulated the pursuers to renewed efforts. But the fleet stallion soon overtook the storm, and it proved a good travelling companion, wrapping the fugitive in its mantle of rain, and drowning with its thunder-claps the beating of his horse's hoofs. It took the side of the escaped prisoner, and he was not caught. CHAPTER XXVI. AT HOME. The dawn found Ödön alone on the wide heath,--a bare and desolate plain before him, where nothing but earth and sky met the view, except that in the distance the faint outline of a well-sweep could be descried. Ödön turned his horse in that direction. The animal seemed thirsty, and quickened his pace as he drew nearer the well. After watering him and turning him loose to seek what forage the barren heath had to offer, the rider sat down on the low well-curb and gazed over the plain. But he was not long left to his meditations; the distant neighing of a horse aroused him, and his faithful Ljubicza, with an answering whinny, came trotting to his side, as if offering himself for farther flight. Resting one arm on the saddle, Ödön stood awaiting the stranger's approach. It certainly could not be an enemy roaming the plain in that manner; it must be a travelling companion, a fugitive like himself, who had been attracted thither by the well-sweep, that lighthouse of the arid plains. As he drew nearer, the unknown rider looked like some stray member of a guerilla band. A bright red ribbon adorned his round hat. Upon his closer approach Ödön recognised his old acquaintance, Gregory Boksa, the ox-herd; and he was glad even of this humble man's company in the lonely desert. "Hurrah!" cried Gregory, as he rode up on his white-faced horse; "how glad I am to see you, my dear sir! May Heaven preserve you! It is well you made your escape, for they're having bad times back yonder. I myself only got away with difficulty." So saying, the driver of cattle dismounted and patted his horse on the neck. "Yes, sir," he resumed, "if old White-face hadn't held out as well as he did, it would have been all over with me. You see, when I learned that our people had laid down their arms, I said to myself: 'The Russians sha'n't have my hundred head of cattle for nothing.' So I drove the herd to Várad through the Belényes forest, and walked into the Russian camp. 'I've got some cattle to sell,' said I, 'and if you want to buy, now's your chance.' The stupid Russians snapped at the bait, agreed to my price after a little haggling, and gave me a money-order for the lot. I was to go to Rideghváry, said they, and he would pay me the cash." "Is Rideghváry in Várad?" asked Ödön quickly.