"He looks as if he were done for," said Maurice, standing up.
"Let us clear up the rubbish and hitch a horse to the carriage.
The mate's all right."
Von Mitter assisted the maid into the carriage and seated her.
"Go and stay with her," said Maurice, brusquely; "you're half
fainting."
"You are very handy, Carewe," said von Mitter gratefully, and he
climbed in beside the maid, who, her fright gone, gave way to
womanly instincts. She took her kerchief and wiped the
Lieutenant's cheek, pressing his hand in hers the while.
Maurice and Scharfenstein worked away at the traces, and dragged
the dead horse to the side of the road. Scharfenstein brought
around von Mitter's horse, took oft the furnishings, and backed
him into the pole.
Meanwhile the man lying by the water's edge showed signs of
returning life. He turned his head cautiously. His enemies were
a dozen yards away from him. Slowly he rolled over on his
stomach, thence to his knees. They were paying no attention to
him. . . .
"Ho, there! the prisoner!" cried von Mitter, tumbling out of the
carriage. He tried to stand up, but a numbness seized his legs,
and he sank to a sitting posture.
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