enough of German discipline to be vastly amused by this. But
he had no time now to think of trifling things. His whole energy was
devoted to finding some way to turn this new circumstance to his own
advantage. It seemed to him that there ought to be some way of managing
it. And in a moment he got the idea. Schmidt was as tired as his horse,
or even more so, and by this time he was swaying in his saddle and half
asleep, as a trained horseman often does. Fred leaned forward and very
quietly cut the saddle girth almost through. He knew that the slightest
strain would finish the work. Schmidt was utterly unconscious of what
was going on. Fred could tell, from the man's breathing, just what his
condition was. He would snore a little and then, with a start, he would
arouse himself, breathing normally for a minute. Then the snoring would
start again. He was trusting himself entirely to his horse.

Dusk had fallen now, and Fred decided that it was time to see if his
plan was feasible. He took a handkerchief from his pocket, rolled it
into a ball, and flung it straight ahead, so that it fell, unrolling,
right before the horse's eyes. The effect was inevitable. The frightened
horse reared. At the strain the severed girth gave, and the saddle,
rolling, spilled both Schmidt and Fred into the road, while the horse
bolted. Fred lay still, watching Schmidt, who rose, cursing fluently,
and stood for a moment staring stupidly after his horse. Then he began
to call, and broke into the awkward, lumbering run of the cavalryman.

Fred might have slipped away then, but he was sure that Schmidt would
catch the horse, which must, he thought, be trained to stop even after a
momentary panic. And it was not his plan to seize a chance that might
after all not be as good as it looked. He wanted to make as sure as
possible of getting away. And now, as soon as Schmidt had started after
the horse, he crawled over to the saddle, which lay where it had fallen.
He took the heavy revolver from the holster and was duly grateful for
one thing he had noticed--these Uhlans carried no carbines. Their only
weapons, seemingly, were their lances and the revolvers in their
holsters.

He was not a moment too soon. Schmidt came back almost at once, leading
his horse. He was scolding it for running, and he was also expressing
his opinion of government saddles and leather. He found the broken
girth, and sat down at once to mend it. Fred scarcely dared to breathe
for