No sound is to be heard there but the eternal sighing of the wind, and
in the dizzy depths below the traveller sees nothing but dense, dreary
forests crowding one upon another with the Alpine eagles circling and
screaming above them.
It was just the place for a hunted band of robbers to turn upon their
pursuers for a last life and death struggle,--here where even the bodies
of the slain would never be found. For not once in two years does a
wanderer chance to come this way, and long before that time the wolves
and the vultures will have dispersed the bones of the fallen.
Yet this time the robber bands did not fall in with their pursuers, a
sufficient proof that Szilard's plan was skilfully laid and
unanticipated. For had Fatia Negra had any idea of his design, it is
absolutely inconceivable that he would not have laid in wait for him on
this spectre-haunted path, where ten resolute men could have held a
whole army at bay.
For hours Szilard's long troop of horsemen pursued their way along
without meeting a soul. Late in the afternoon they came upon the first
shepherd's hut. The herdsman himself was out in the forest with his
flocks; there was nobody at home but a lame dog which barked at them.
In the evening they met a mounted countryman carrying maize to be ground
at the mill, him they took along with them as guide.
After that they travelled all night long, passing through Skeritora and
Nyigsa, till they came to the cataract of Vidra, which they reached at
dawn of day.
Pages:
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354