I was wandering aimlessly through the rose gardens, when the far-off
sound of galloping hoofs came on the breeze. Nearer and nearer it
drew. I ran out into the highway. I saw a horse come wildly dashing
along. It was riderless, and as it came closer I saw the foam of sweat
dripping from its flanks and shoulders. As the animal plunged toward
me, I made a spring and caught the bridle, hanging on till the brute
came to a standstill. It was quivering from fright. There was a gash
on its neck, and it was bleeding and turning the white flakes of sweat
into a murky crimson.

"Good Lord!" I ejaculated. "It's one of the cavalry horses. Hillars
or the innkeeper has been hurt."

I was of the mind to mount the animal and go in search of them, when
Stahlberg, who had come to my assistance, said that I had best wait. A
quarter of an hour passed. Then we could see another horse, perhaps
half a mile away, coming toward the inn at a canter. From what I could
see in the pale light, the horse carried a double burden. A sheet of
ice seemed to fall on my heart. What had happened? Had Dan and the
Prince come to blows? Alas, I could have cried out in anguish at the
sight which finally met my gaze. The innkeeper held the reins, and,
propped up in front of him, was Hillars, to all appearances dead.