"Agreed; but first let our men get out of range. Why shoot down our brave lads instead of each other?" "You are right," assented Otto, and he ordered his men to stand aside. The two leaders stood facing each other across the burning bridge, whose flames furnished a bright light for a nocturnal duel. Each wore a white cavalry cloak, an excellent target for his opponent's aim. They exchanged a couple of shots. Palvicz pierced Richard's shako, he himself receiving a shot in the cuirass which left a dent. "Load again!" cried Otto. But at that moment the water from the fish-pond, whose sluices had been thrown wide open by old Paul, came rushing over the dike in such a volume as entirely to submerge the burning bridge and leave the duellists in darkness. Indeed, they were forced to seek safety from the rising flood in precipitate flight. "To-morrow we'll at it again," called out the cuirassier major. "I'll be with you," answered the captain of hussars. What had been a fiery Phlegethon before, now became an inky Styx, likely to delay the pursuers for half a day. Meanwhile the fugitives had only to push on as rapidly as possible. The whole region, however, was aroused, and in the first village they reached they could get no provisions for themselves or fodder for their horses. "You are deserters and bent on mischief," the people said to them, and they were forced to ride on with their hunger unabated. Coming to a bridge, they were met by a rude company of rustic militia, armed with scythes. "Shall we do as we did at the St. Bridget Convent?" the hussars asked their captain. "No, that is out of the question here," was the reply; "we must avoid a fight with the peasantry." He well knew that a couple of volleys from their pistols would have cleared the bridge; but he chose instead to make a détour that cost them two hours of precious time, being resolved to avoid all bloodshed until he should reach his own country. And still not a bite to eat. Everything eatable was hidden on their approach. Toward noon, however, they came to a little inn where they obtained a loaf of bread and a little brandy. Richard himself cut up the loaf into as many pieces as there were men, and served it out to his followers as if it had been the Lord's supper. A mouthful of bread and a swallow of brandy,--that was their dinner. In the afternoon they reached a second mill, and here the miller was in the act of grinding some buckwheat. Eldorado! A feast fit for Lucullus! Stirabout for every man, a bellyful! True, neither dripping nor bacon was to be had; but never mind; it would taste so good even without.