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It's a speedy making up our minds that is needed if we are not to starve." Ellerey was still following his own thoughts. "What can her plan be?" he said. "What hope for her cause is there in these hills? What mercy can she expect from Vasilici?" "As Grigosie, none; as a woman, she may persuade these men to anything," Stefan answered. "Some power she has, or why did they not kill Grigosie at once?"
They came, but only to have their leader fall back into their arms. Through the slit Ellerey had driven his sword with all his strength, piercing the living through the dead. It had been an ugly rush, but for the present it was the last. "They'll try some other plan before attempting this way again," said Stefan. "Is there any other way?" Grigosie asked. "For mountaineers there may be.
"Every step lessens the distance, lad," he said encouragingly. "That will teach them to keep a little farther in the rear." Still Ellerey turned constantly to watch their pursuers. One or two had stopped by their wounded companions, but the rest held on their way, undeterred by the fate of their comrades. Twice again did Ellerey count twelve paces, and he and Grigosie turned together and fired.
"Grigosie," said Ellerey to the soldier beside him as he saw Dumitru fall. He used the name that Stefan might understand to the full. Was there anything that Stefan would not do for Grigosie? Frina Mavrodin stood for a moment alone above the surging, fighting mass.
"I have a strange liking for life, Captain, just now." The men led their horses down the zig-zag path, Ellerey and Stefan bringing up the rear. Grigosie turned to look back at the ruined walls, and the tower standing gaunt against the mountain-side. He had enthusiastically called it his, and in the desertion of it there may have been some regret.
It was evident to Ellerey that the boy's pace was palpably slackening, and there was yet some distance to cover to the height, to say nothing of the final dash for the horses. The men behind were rapidly overtaking them. Ellerey could hear the dull, rhythmic pad of the running feet. "Twelve paces, Grigosie," he murmured, "then turn sharply.
She was out of my reach even then, and in those days I was something more than a Captain of Horse." "But after this enterprise you will be something more." "I cannot become a Prince, Grigosie, and my lady of the breezy morning was a Princess." "Really, or is that your fanciful name for her?" "Really a Princess," Ellerey answered. "I wonder why I should be telling this story to you?"
For a moment Grigosie glanced at him, understanding something of what was in his mind, but the next instant he had turned again to watch Vasilici. The man was a swaggerer through and through, although if the tales told of him were true he did not lack courage.
Not a word spoke the soldier, but he fiercely twisted Anton's aim, and the knife he held rattled to the floor. "As my fathers faced death, so can I, unflinchingly," Grigosie cried. "Strike, Captain! God knows it was not such work as this I thought to find for the strong arm of Desmond Ellerey." As he spoke, he tore his shirt open at the throat to receive the blow.
"Command him, Captain," pleaded Grigosie. "In war and love everything is fair." Ellerey gave way and Stefan shouted the answer. "Until to-morrow," came the answer. "The youth once in our hands, you are free to depart.
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