Armitage sat erect and steady in his saddle, his horse
speeding on in great bounds toward the barricade. His lips moved in a
curious stiff fashion, as though he were ill, muttering:
"For Austria! For Austria! He bade me do something for the Empire!"
Beyond the cedars the trio held their fire, watching with fascinated eyes
the two riders, every instant drawing closer, and the runner who followed
them.
"They can't jump this--they'll veer off before they get here," shouted
Chauvenet to his comrades. "Wait till they check their horses for the
turn."
"We are fools. They have got us trapped;" and Durand's hands shook as he
restlessly fingered a revolver. The big Servian crouched on his knees
near by, his finger on the trigger of his rifle. All three were hatless
and unkempt. The wound in Zmai's scalp had broken out afresh, and he had
twisted a colored handkerchief about it to stay the bleeding. A hundred
yards away the waterfall splashed down the defile and its faint murmur
reached them. A wild dove rose ahead of Armitage and flew straight before
him over the barricade. The silence grew tense as the horses galloped
nearer; the men behind the cedar-lined wall heard only the hollow thump
of hoofs and Claiborne's voice calling to Armitage and Oscar, to warn
them of his whereabouts.
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