The mountaineers, accustomed to precipices, frequently considered roads good on which the heads of unaccustomed men turned and their ears rang. At last they entered a kind of rocky chasm long, straight, and so narrow that three men could barely ride abreast in it. Two cliffs bounded it on the right side and the left. At places however the edges inclined, forming slopes less steep, covered with piles of snow bordered on the edges with dark pine-trees. Winds blew away the snow immediately from the bottom of the pass, and the hoofs of horses gritted everywhere on a stony road. But at that moment the wind was not blowing, and such silence reigned that there was a ringing in the ears. Above where between the woody edges a blue belt of sky was visible, black flocks of birds flew past from time to time, shaking their wings and screaming. The king’s party halted for rest. Clouds of steam rose from the horses, and the men too were tired. “Is this Poland or Hungary?” inquired, after a time, the king of a guide. “This is Poland.” “But why do we not turn directly to Hungary?” “Because it is impossible. At some distance this pass turns, beyond the turn is a cliff, beyond that we come out on the high-road, turn, then go through one more pass, and there the Hungarian country begins.” “Then I see it would have been better to go by the highway at first,” said the king. “Quiet!” cried the mountaineer, quickly. And springing to the cliff he put his ear to it. All fixed their eyes on him; his face changed in a moment, and he said: “Beyond the turn troops are coming from the water-fall! For God’s sake! Are they not Swedes?” “Where? How? What?” men began to ask on every side. “We hear nothing.” “No, for snow is lying on the sides. By God’s wounds, they are near! they will be here straightway!” “Maybe they are the marshal’s troops,” said the king. In one moment Kmita urged his horse forward. “I will go and see!” said he. The Kyemliches moved that instant after him, like hunting-dogs in a chase; but barely had they stirred from their places when the turn of the pass, about a hundred yards distant, was made black by men and horses. Kmita looked at them, and the soul quivered within him from terror. Swedes were advancing. They were so near that it was impossible to retreat, especially since the king’s party had wearied horses. It only remained to break through, to perish, or to go into captivity. The unterrified king understood this in a flash; therefore he seized the hilt of his sword. “Cover the king and retreat!” cried Kmita. Tyzenhauz with twenty men pushed forward in the twinkle of an eye; but Kmita instead of joining them moved on at a sharp trot against the Swedes.