encountered a terrible antagonist. Fatia Negra warded every blow and
countered instantly; the young officer was thrown into confusion by the
superior dexterity of his opponent, and it was only a soldier's sense of
honour that induced him to continue an attack which was bound to end
fatally for himself: practised fencers always know at once whether they
can vanquish their antagonist or not. At the same time it was really
surprising that Fatia Negra did not immediately take advantage of his
strength and skill. He seemed to be sparing his enemy, nay, he even
retreated before him step by step.

Meanwhile the _melee_ on the bridge had become general. The lancers
hastened to the assistance of their leader, the black masks slashed away
at them with their csakanys, and soon there were very few among the
combatants who had not received a lance thrust or a csakany blow. The
adventurers were forced by the lancers to the opposite end of the
bridge, when the miller, who lived in the mill beside the bridge,
thrust his head out of the window and shouted: "Take care, soldiers! the
beams of the bridge have been sawn through!"

Was this the fact? Was it the plan of the adventurers to entice the
horses on to the bridge in order that it might break down beneath their
weight?--or was the miller also an accomplice and only shouted this
because the soldiers were gaining the upperhand? In either case the
warning cry had a magical effect upon the pursuers, for they immediately
turned back in alarm and strove to reach their own end of the bridge
again.

And now they perceived what a two fold trap the cunning adventurers had
set for them, for whilst the lancers had been fighting with the mounted
robbers, a large band of footpads armed with firearms had surrounded the
post wagons in their rear, disarmed the postillions and were now engaged
in attempting to overturn the wagons into the ditch by the roadside.

The lancers dashed towards the wagons and freed them in a moment from
the hands of the mob which, on their appearance, dispersed among the
brushwood by the roadside from whence they began firing.

Not far from the bridge was a _csarda_, and there the cavalry and the
post-wagons sought a refuge. And indeed they needed it. The number of
the footpads armed with guns was about a couple of hundred; they
enfiladed the whole road and, more than that, it was easy to perceive
that some of the tall roadside poplars had been sawn through beforehand