One last trial was in store for the weary fugitives: in the afternoon a dense snow-storm met them in the face. Should Richard lead his men by any mischance into a ravine that offered no outlet, they would all be lost. Occasional avalanches came sliding down the steep cliffs, threatening to bury men and horses. Yet they did not quite lose heart. The terrors of their situation had not yet extinguished the spark of hope. Evening was again approaching when Richard noted that for some time they had been descending. Before long a well-grown fir grove loomed up ahead and proved a grateful asylum to the wanderers. The wind blew through the tree-tops with the sound of some giant organ, but above its tones Richard heard what was the sweetest of music to his ears,--the sound of a woodman's axe. Human beings and human habitations were near. Taking a few of his men, the hussar captain hastened in the direction of the sound, and soon came upon a wood-chopper cutting the branches from a tree he had just felled. Richard called to him in the Moravian tongue. "Bless the Lord!" answered the wood-chopper in Hungarian, whereupon the hussars nearly smothered him with kisses and embraces. Then they threw themselves down on their faces in the snow and gave thanks for their deliverance from danger. Yes, blessed be the name of the Lord from everlasting to everlasting! The wood-chopper told them they were expected in the village yonder, only a short distance down the mountain. Word of their approach had already been brought by the guide, who had left them and hurried on ahead to summon help. The snow ceased, and as the veil of clouds was drawn aside a view was given of what the hussars had come so far to see,--the fair land of Hungary. At the base of the mountain lay a little market-town, reached by a winding road up which, with flags and music, a glad procession was now marching to welcome the home-coming hussars. Hearing the band and seeing the banners from afar, Richard and his companions fired their pistols as a signal to their slower comrades, who presently came up with them. All were there,--not a man missing. Dressing their ranks, the horsemen waited to receive the procession. What occurred when it reached them is more than the present generation of readers can be asked to picture to themselves. A banquet had been spread for the home-coming heroes, and after partaking of it generously, the toil-worn but happy hussars, who had not slept for six nights, danced through the seventh until broad daylight. All this is no piece of fiction, no picture of the imagination. A young hussar, now a veteran of many wars, wrote it all down in his diary as it occurred, and is to-day ready to take oath that it is every word true as here described. CHAPTER XVII. TIMELY AID.