ictims or their favorites. The man who fears to be their victim is
seldom chosen for their favorite. I should rather be their victim than
be overlooked; and what I should have chosen for myself I desired for
Max. I had no future save in him; I had been overlooked in the by-ways.

At the time of our journeying all Europe turned on a Burgundian pivot,
and the Fates were busy in that land. It was the stage of the world, on
which the strong, the great, and the enterprising of mankind were
playing; and I hoped that Max, who was strong and enterprising, would
find his part in this Burgundian drama. I was willing to risk
sacrificing him, though he was dearer to me than the blood of my heart,
if I might stand even a small chance to make him great.

At strange variance with my philosophy, I had faith in Max's luck. It
was more than faith; it was a fixed, intuitive conviction that he would
win. For these reasons, all growing out of what I felt rather than what
I reasoned, we continued our dangerous and apparently useless journey.
When a man feels himself led by an unseen hand, he should gladly follow.
There is an intuition that is better than reason.

* * * * *

One bright morning in May we began our journey down the Rhine. My fears
had no place in Max's heart, and his self-confidence was to me a
harbinger of good fortune. A man may do anything that he knows he can
do; failure never disappoints him who expects it.

We left Basel by the west gate and took the road for Strasburg, leading
down the west bank of the Rhine. That was not the most direct route to
Peronne, but it was the safest because of the numerous river towns
wherein we might lie safely by night. The robber barons whom we had to
fear along the river were at least not pilfering vagabonds, such as we
should meet across country. Against the open attack of a brave foe we
felt that we could make a good defence. Our fighting force consisted of
Max, myself, and two lusty squires. We had also a half-score of men who
led the sumpter mules.

Castleman had purchased two beautiful chargers in Basel, pretending that
he wished to take them to Peronne for sale. He asked Max to ride one and
offered the other for my use. I was sure that his only reason for buying
the horses was his desire to present them to us, which he afterward did.
Max named his charger "Night," because of its spotless coat of black.
Yolanda rode a beautiful white mare which we r