In hopes to baffle pursuit, he had quitted the direct road, or that which he supposed to be such, and wheeled off by a path to the left, but did so in vain, for they were following him fast, and his horse, shoeless now, failed to grip the loose soil of the way with its hoofs alone. Outriding the rest, two were now getting unpleasantly close to him, as the path, a very narrow and winding one, began to ascend a steep spur of Mount Mezlanie. He rid himself of one of these by his pistol, but as he wheeled round in his saddle to deliver the Parthian shot by which he did so, he felt in his right arm a maddening pang of pain, and a cold perspiration burst over him. 'God!' he exclaimed, 'if it is thus with me now, how will it be if I come to use my sword!' The second Montenegrin, fast and far outrode the rest, and without wasting time in using rifle or pistol, he came thundering full upon the rear of Cecil, whose horse, though fresh from the stable, after days of enforced idleness, and liable to resent the use of bit, curb and spur, was toiling up the steep and rugged path there was no quitting or avoiding. Cecil could see that it came close to the very verge of a precipice and then turned acutely to the left. This he perceived just in time to save himself from a sudden and horrible catastrophe, by slackening speed, and guiding his horse, by bridle and knee, carefully round the perilous corner; while his pursuer, intent blindly on bloodshed and slaughter, came furiously up to the spot, and failing to turn the angle, being ignorant of it, or unable to check his speed, went over the precipice--headlong, horse and man--through the air, to find mutilation and death, where soon the vultures would be gathering, at its base, some hundred feet below. His fate evidently made the rest more wary and caused some delay in the pursuit, which enabled Cecil to distance them considerably, as he pursued the pathway through a solitary glen; but he could see that they were still keeping him in sight, at a time when the afternoon was far advanced, and the darkness of a sudden thunderstorm began to obscure both sky and scenery. CHAPTER XX. CECIL COMES TO GRIEF. At this very time yesterday he had been hanging over Margarita at the piano, and busy with the numerous buttons of her long kid-gloves; and then listening to her coquettish song of 'The Wishes.' Now what a change had come! He was a fugitive, pursued by men who were veritable human bloodhounds! 'No doubt about Guebhard now!' thought Cecil. 'Fool that I was not to quarrel with him at Palenka as he wished; and shoot him on the terrace, or anywhere else. But a time may come; nay, must come--if I escape--if I escape!' And a time _did_ come, when they were to meet face to face, though Cecil could little foresee, then, when and where it was to be.