astonished me.

"Would you prefer that Max or your good uncle and perhaps some of our
poor mule-leaders should be killed by these pigstickers," I asked, "or
would you compound with them in some reasonable way? Shall we
fight them?"

"No, no," she answered, "wise bravery is better. I suppose I shall learn
the lesson some day."

While the troop of horsemen were under the crest of the hill, Yolanda
ran across the open to a place of concealment beside Twonette. Hardly
was she hidden when the dust-cloud rose from the brink of the hill, and
five men, well though roughly armed, galloped up to us and drew their
horses back upon their haunches.

"What have we here?" demanded the captain, a huge German. Their grimy
armor and bearded faces besmeared with black marked them as Black
Riders. I was overjoyed to see that they numbered but five.

"What is that to you?" I asked, putting on a bold front, though I feared
our mule-leaders would make but a sorry fight should we come to blows.

"That depends on what you have," responded our swart friend, coolly.
"Whatever you have, so much it is to us."

"What will you take in gold, my good man, and let us go our way in peace
with our cargo of silks?" asked Castleman.

"By your leave, friend," said I, interrupting the negotiations, "I am
in command when fighting is to be done. Let me settle with this fellow."

"Settle now, if you are so keen," cried the big German, drawing his
sword and spurring his horse upon me. I could not have withstood the
unexpected onrush, and certainly would have met with hard blows or
worse, had not Max come to my rescue. I hurriedly stepped back, and the
German, in following me, rode near a large stone by the roadside. He
had, doubtless, passed the stone many times in his travels up and down
the road, but the thought probably had never occurred to him that it
would be the cause of his death. The most potential facts in our lives
are usually too insignificant to attract attention.

When the German charged me, Max sprang upon the stone and dealt the
swart ruffian a blow such as no man may survive. Max's great battle-axe
crushed the Black Eider's helmet as if it were an egg-shell, and the
captain of our foes fell backward, hanging by his stirrups. One of our
squires shot one of the robbers, and the remaining three took flight.
Max caught the captain's horse, and coolly extricated the dead man's
feet from the stirrups. Then he thrust the body to the roadside