He was only a few paces from the spot, when a gigantic figure, armed with a short broad-axe, and with a Roman helmet on his head, descended from the rock in front of him, and seizing the reins of the horse forced him to halt. The young man aimed a blow at his enemy's head, and the helmet fell back, cut through the middle, but the force of the blow had broken his sword in two; and the horse lifted by his giant foe, reared, so that the rider, losing his balance, was thrown against the side of the rock, and fell senseless to the ground. At the same instant a shot was fired toward them from the top of the rock. "Who fired there?" cried the giant, in a voice of thunder. The bloodthirsty Wallachians would have rushed madly on their defenseless prey, had not the giant stood between him and them. "Who fired on me?" he sternly exclaimed. The Wallachians stood back in terror. "It was not on you, Decurio, that I fired, but on the hussar," stammered out one of the men, on whom the giant had fixed his eye. "You lie, traitor! Your ball struck my armor, and had I not worn a shirt of mail, it would have pierced my heart." The man turned deadly pale, trembling from head to foot. "My enemies have paid you to murder me?" The savage tried to speak, but words died upon his lips. "Hang him instantly--he is a traitor!" The rest of the gang immediately seized the culprit and carried him to the nearest tree, from whence his shrieks soon testified that his sentence was being put in execution. The Decurio remained alone with the young man; and hastily lifting him, still senseless, from the ground, he mounted his horse, and placing him before him ere the savage horde had returned, he had galloped some distance along the road from whence the youth had come, covering him with his mantle as he passed the bridge, to conceal him from several of the gang who stood there, and exclaiming, "Follow me to the Topanfalvo." As soon as they were out of sight, he suddenly turned to the left, down a steep, hilly path, and struck into the depth of the forest. The morning sun had just shot its first beams across the hills, tinting with golden hue the reddening autumn leaves, when the young hussar began to move in his fevered dreams, and murmured the name "Jolanka." In a few moments he opened his eyes. He was lying in a small chamber, through the only window of which the sunbeams shone upon his face. The bed on which he lay was made of lime-boughs, simply woven together, and covered with wolves' skins. A gigantic form was leaning against the foot of the bed with his arms folded, and as the young man awoke, he turned round. It was the Decurio. "Where am I?" asked the young man, vaguely endeavoring to recall the events of the past night. "In my house," replied Decurio. "And who are you?" "I am Numa, Decurio of the Roumin[6] Legion, your foe in battle, but now your host and protector." "And why did you save me from your men?" asked the young man, after a short silence.