ing two mountain ponies. Zenobia mounted one, waved a final adieu to
Manasseh, and rode away with her attendant toward Bedelloe.

"Come, sir," said the gipsy, touching Manasseh's elbow, "let us set
about what she told us to do. You go into the church and get Diurbanu's
horse while I go and find the rider. You have two pistols and a dagger.
What, don't you want them? Then give them to me."

The fiddler was proud to find himself so well armed. He made a belt of
the cords he had brought with him from the cellar, and stuck the weapons
into it.

"Now we must hurry," he urged, "or the people will be coming back."

While Manasseh made his way to the church, his companion hastened in
search of Diurbanu. The little man had sharp eyes and keen wits. He
conjectured that the fallen rider, with his broken leg, would avoid the
dry harvest-fields, over which the fire was rapidly spreading, and would
be found in the moist ditch beside the road. Nor was he wrong in this
surmise. He was soon saluted in a voice that he recognised.

"Gipsy, come here!"

"Not so fast," the fiddler replied. "How do I know you won't shoot me?"

"I have nothing to shoot with. I am lying in the water, so that even if
I had my pistols the powder would be soaked through."

"But what do you want of me?"

"I wish you to save my life."

"And won't you have me locked up afterward?"

"If you will help me get away from here I'll make you a rich man. You
shall have a thousand florins."

"If you had promised me less I should have believed you sooner."

"But I will pay you the money now. Come, take me on your back and carry
me away."

"Where to?"

"Into the church yonder."

The gipsy laughed aloud. "First do your swearing out here, then," said
he, "for no one may curse God in his house. But what will you do in the
church?"

"I will wait while you run to Gyertyamos and hire a carriage for me. You
shall have a thousand florins, the driver the same, and for every hour
before sunrise that you accomplish your errand you shall receive an
extra hundred."

"You won't see the sun rise," muttered the fiddler to himself as he
obeyed the other's directions.

The burden proved not too heavy for the little man's back; he could have
carried him all the way to Gyertyamos, but the horse must obey his
rider, so into the church he went with him.

"There, Manasseh," he cried, in triumph, "there's our man!" And he
dropped his burden on the stone floor.

Diurbanu cr