"We need not go into that. If you doubt her information, prove it for yourself. Your friends here are scarcely capable." "That is true, the cattle. They think that their work is over. I must certainly go, Sadi--and take you with me." "Not so, Ludenmayer; I must have nothing to do with it. Besides, I am very comfortable here." "For the time being, yes. But if anything should happen to me, they would assuredly hang you, friend Sadi." "I will take my chances, Ludenmayer. Remember, it is you alone that I wish to serve. They will at least respect your orders." "Give them your word to be silent, and they will let you go away at once. There is nothing easier, Sadi." "For a Prussian, perhaps--for me, no. We have been comrades--let that suffice, Ludenmayer. A wise man would go at once." The eyes of the two met, and the Prussian seemed to read something of this odd fellow's purpose in his dilated pupils and the stern, set expression of his mouth. It came to Ludenmayer that he and the gregarious dozen of spies with him were already in a trap from which haste alone would save them. This simple old fiddler knew much more than he would tell. Ludenmayer, trained to selfishness by his occupation, cared nothing for that which happened to the others if he could save his own skin. He was grateful to Sadi, and he wrung his hand. "Well," he said, in a louder voice, for all to hear, "I must certainly be off, but I shall not be away long. Do not spare the bottle, Sadi. And mind you treat him well," he added, turning to the company, "for he is my guest." The men stood to the salute mechanically, and the sentry in the passage whispering that the road was clear, Ludenmayer left the cellar with a last word in Sadi's ear. "Take care of yourself," he said; "they are in an ugly mood." Sadi nodded his head confidently, but his heart beat quicker when the door was shut, and he looked a little eagerly into the faces of the crew as though he would learn their purpose now that the captain was gone. It could not be very long, he argued, before Ludenmayer discovered the trick which had been played upon him and returned to charge him with it. As to the Prussians about him, some were already steeped with wine, and they lay sprawling like animals in the straw; others, and the cook was among the number of these, eyed their captain's guest suspiciously and discussed him in low voices. Sadi knew that his life hung upon a thread; but when a great ruffian drew a revolver and loaded it deliberately the fiddler was not afraid. "They will not shoot me," he said to himself; "they would be afraid of the noise." What he feared was the rope and the hook in the beam above, but he did not confess it by his looks; and turning from them with a laugh he buried his head in the straw and pretended to sleep. Soon the others imitated him, and the heavy breathing of tired men echoed through the cellar.