m the cool
stream, and the One-eyed Hans washed a part of the soot from his hands
and face. On and on they rode; never once did the Baron Conrad move his
head or alter that steadfast look as, gazing straight before him, he
rode steadily forward along the endless stretch of road, with poor
little Otto's yellow head and white face resting against his steel-clad
shoulder--and St. Michaelsburg still eight leagues away.

A little rise of ground lay before them, and as they climbed it, all,
excepting the baron, turned their heads as with one accord and looked
behind them. Then more than one heart failed, for through the leaves
of the trees below, they caught the glint of armor of those who
followed--not more than a mile away. The next moment they swept over the
crest, and there, below them, lay the broad shining river, and nearer a
tributary stream spanned by a rude, narrow, three-arched, stone bridge
where the road crossed the deep, slow-moving water.

Down the slope plodded the weary horses, and so to the bridge-head.

"Halt," cried the baron suddenly, and drew rein.

The others stood bewildered. What did he mean to do? He turned to Hans
and his blue eyes shone like steel.

"Hans," said he, in his deep voice, "thou hast served me long and truly;
wilt thou for this one last time do my bidding?"

"Aye," said Hans, briefly.

"Swear it," said the Baron.

"I swear it," said Hans, and he drew the sign of the cross upon his
heart.

"That is good," said the Baron, grimly. "Then take thou this child,
and with the others ride with all the speed that thou canst to St.
Michaelsburg. Give the child into the charge of the Abbot Otto. Tell
him how that I have sworn fealty to the Emperor, and what I have gained
thereby--my castle burnt, my people slain, and this poor, simple child,
my only son, mutilated by my enemy.

"And thou, my Lord Baron?" said Hans.

"I will stay here," said the Baron, quietly, "and keep back those who
follow as long as God will give me grace so to do."

A murmur of remonstrance rose among the faithful few who were with
him, two of whom were near of kin. But Conrad of Drachenhausen turned
fiercely upon them.

"How now," said he, "have I fallen so low in my troubles that even ye
dare to raise your voices against me? By the good Heaven, I will begin
my work here by slaying the first man who dares to raise word against
my bidding." Then he turned from them. "Here, Hans," said he, "take the
boy; and reme