entire rear seat was
left to Blanka, who was so swathed and muffled in wraps and furs that
she was well-nigh hidden from view. Despite all the plausible
explanations, she came very near guessing the well-meant deceit that was
practised upon her.

"Why, your horses are saddled!" she exclaimed to Aaron.

"Yes, to be sure," calmly replied the mountaineer. "That's the custom
in Transylvania; we put saddles on our carriage-horses just as in Styria
they buckle a block of wood over the horse's neck."

Blanka appeared satisfied with this explanation of Transylvanian usage.
Aaron gave his good Szekler steeds a free rein. They were raised in the
mountains and could, if need were, trot for twenty-four hours on a
stretch without food or water; then, if they were unharnessed and
allowed to graze a little, they were able to resume the journey with
unslackened pace. The driver had no occasion to use reins or whip: they
knew their duty,--to pull lustily when the road led up-hill, to hold
back in going down-hill, to trot on a level, to overtake and pass any
carriage in front of them, to quicken their pace when they heard one
behind, and to halt before every inn.

Aaron, turning half around on his seat, beguiled the time by telling
stories to his fair passenger, to whom his fund of amusing anecdotes
seemed inexhaustible. When at length, as they were ascending a long
hill, he noticed that she ceased to laugh at his tales, but sat inert
and with head sunk on her bosom, he put his hand into his waistcoat
pocket and, drawing out an enamelled gold watch, pressed the stem and
held it to his ear.

"Half-past twelve," he murmured.

The man himself was a gold watch encased in a rough exterior, a noble
heart in a rude setting. His horny hands were hardened by toil, but he
had a clever head on his shoulders; he was well endowed with mother-wit,
quick at repartee, merciless in his satire toward the haughty and
overbearing, cool and good-humoured in the presence of danger,--in
short, a genuine Szekler, heart and soul.

When, then, his repeater had told him the hour, Aaron turned and
addressed his brother. "The young lady is asleep," said he, "and now you
and I can have a little talk together. You asked me how our two brothers
came to be captured. Let me begin at the beginning, and you shall hear
all about it. You know when freedom is first born she is a puny infant
and has to be suckled. That she cries for blood instead of milk is
something