After a while he convinced himself that it was not, and drew a long breath. Kmita, under the influence of cold water and pain, began to give signs of life. His face quivered, his breast heaved with breath. "He is alive!--nothing! he will be unharmed," cried Soroka, joyfully; and a tear rolled down the murderous face of the sergeant. Meanwhile at the turn of the road appeared Biloüs, one of the three soldiers who had followed the prince. "Well, what?" called Soroka. The soldier shook his head. "Nothing!" "Will the others return soon?" "The others will not return." With trembling hands the sergeant laid Kmita's head on the threshold of the forge, and sprang to his feet. "How is that?" "Sergeant, that prince is a wizard! Zavratynski caught up first, for he had the best horse, and because the prince let him catch up. Before our eyes Boguslav snatched the sabre from his hand and thrust him through. We had barely to cry out. Vitkovski was next, and sprang to help; and him this Radzivill cut down before my eyes, as if a thunderbolt had struck him. He did not give a sound. I did not wait my turn. Sergeant, the prince is ready to come back here." "There is nothing in this place for us," said Soroka. "To horse!" That moment they began to make a stretcher between the horses for Kmita. Two of the soldiers, at the command of Soroka, stood with muskets on the road, fearing the return of the terrible man. But Prince Boguslav, convinced that Kmita was not alive, rode quietly to Pilvishki. About dark he was met by a whole detachment of horsemen sent out by Patterson, whom the absence of the prince had disturbed for some time. The officer, on seeing the prince, galloped to him,-- "Your highness, we did not know--" "That is nothing!" interrupted Prince Boguslav. "I was riding this horse in the company of that cavalier, of whom I bought him." And after a while he added: "I paid him well." CHAPTER XXVIII. The trusty Soroka carried his colonel through the deep forest, not knowing himself what to begin, whither to go or to turn. Kmita was not only wounded, but stunned by the shot. Soroka from time to time moistened the piece of cloth in a bucket hanging by the horse, and washed his face; at times he halted to take fresh water from the streams and forest ponds; but neither halts nor the movement of the horse could restore at once consciousness to Pan Andrei, and he lay as if dead, till the soldiers going with him, and less experienced in the matter of wounds than Soroka, began to be alarmed for the life of their colonel. "He is alive," answered Soroka; "in three days he will be on horseback like any of us." In fact, an hour later, Kmita opened his eyes; but from his mouth came forth one word only,-- "Drink!"