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If you'll promise not to get a bullet in your blond hide I'll promise to be a brother-in-law to you!" Rickerl looked very manly as he stood there, booted, bareheaded, his thin shirt, soaked with sweat, outlining his muscular figure. They lingered a moment, hands closely clasped, looking gravely into each other's faces.
"No, are the Germans there? Oh, now I see. Why, it's a squadron of your cursed Uhlans!" "Yes," said Rickerl, mildly. "Then they've been chased out of the Château de Nesville!" "Probably. They may come back. Jack, can't you get out of this country?" "Perhaps," replied Jack, soberly. He thought of Lorraine, of the marquis lying mangled and dead in the forest beside the fragments of his balloon.
Then, with a gesture, half sad, half friendly, Rickerl started across the stubble towards the distant grove where his Uhlans had taken cover. Jack watched him until his white shirt became a speck, a dot, and finally vanished among the trees on the blue hill.
"Hurry, Herr Hauptmann!" cried a Uhlan, passing him at a gallop. Rickerl cast a startled glance over his shoulder, where, from the thickets, a dozen franc-tireurs were springing towards him, shouting and shaking their chassepots. Something had given way Jack saw that for the horse started on at a trot, snorting with fright.
"Do you see that old straw-stack on the slope? If we could reach the other slope " He held out his hand to gauge the exact direction, then bent again and plodded towards it, Rickerl jogging in his footprints. As they pressed on under the rustling canopy, the sound of the cannon receded, for they were skirting the vineyard at the base of the hill, bearing always towards the south.
But that was exactly what he was doing, for now he found himself close to the park wall; and, listening, he heard the river murmuring among the alders. He halted, utterly at a loss. If he were caught again could Rickerl save him? What could a captain of Uhlans do? True, he had interfered with Von Steyr's hangman's work, but that was nothing but a reprieve at best.
Everybody says we gained a great victory on the 2d of August. I wonder whether Rickerl was in it? Do you know? His regiment is the 11th Uhlans. Were they there? Were any hurt? Oh, Jack, I am so miserable! They speak of a battle at Wissembourg and one at the Spicheren. Were the 11th Uhlans there? Try to find out, dear, and write me at once. Don't forget the 11th Uhlans.
There they were, a group of Uhlans standing near two men who stood facing each other, jackets off, shirts open to the throat. The two men were Rickerl and Von Steyr. Rickerl rolled up his white shirt-sleeve and tucked the cuff into the folds, his naked sabre under his arm. Von Steyr, in shirt, riding-breeches, and boots, stood with one leg crossed before the other, leaning on his bared sabre.
After a moment he said, standing very straight, "I must leave to-morrow morning." "Recalled? Confound your ambassador, Ricky!" said Sir Thorald. "Recalled to Paris in midsummer! Well, I'm " "Not to Paris," said Rickerl, with a curious catch in his voice "to Berlin. I join my regiment at once." Jack Marche, who had been studying his telegram with puzzled eyes, held it out to Sir Thorald.
"I am a fool, Ricky; I know you've got to follow your regiment, and I know it must cut you to the heart. Don't mind what I say; I'm so miserable and bewildered, and I haven't got the feeling of that rope off my neck yet." Rickerl raised his hand gently, but his face was hard set.
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