l looked at the black water. His
mane was blown wildly about his head--he held his fore-feet stretched
out, his haunches drawn in.

"Forward, Wallada!" said Witichis, and called softly into the faithful
animal's ear, "Theodoric!"

At this the charger sprang willingly into the water.

The pursuing horsemen had already galloped out of the wood, Cethegus
foremost; at his side rode Syphax with a torch.

"Here the track disappears in the sand, master."

"They are in the river. Forward, Huns!"

But the horsemen drew rein and stood stock-still.

"Well, Ellak, why do you linger? At once into the flood!"

"Sir, we cannot. Before we ride into running water at night-time, we
must ask forgiveness of Phug, the water-spirit. We must first pray to
him."

"Pray when you are across as long as you like; but now----"

Just then a strong gust of wind blew from the river and extinguished
all the torches.

The river rushed and roared.

"You see, sir, that Phug is angry."

"Be silent. Did you see nothing? There to the left."

The moon just then glanced between the driving clouds. It shone upon
the light-coloured garments of Rauthgundis. She had lost her brown
mantle.

"Aim quickly; there!"

"We cannot; we must first finish our worship!"

The clouds passed across the moon, and it was again quite dark.

With a curse, Cethegus snatched bow and quiver from the shoulder of the
chief of the Huns.

"Come on!" cried Wachis in a low voice, when he had almost reached the
opposite shore; "come quickly, before the moon issues from that narrow
strip of cloud!"

"Halt, Wallada!" cried Witichis, as he dismounted in order to lighten
the burden, and held fast by the horse's mane. "Here is a rock. Take
care, Rauthgundis."

Horse, man, and woman were checked for a moment while balancing upon
the top of the rock, past which the water rushed and gurgled in a deep
whirl.

Suddenly the moon shone out clear and bright. It illuminated the
surface of the stream and the group on the rock.

"It is they!" cried Cethegus, who held his bow and arrow ready.

He took a rapid aim, and pulled the string.

Whistling, the long black-feathered arrow flew from the string.

"Rauthgundis!" cried Witichis in terror; for his wife started
convulsively and sank forward upon the horse's neck. But she did not
utter a groan. "Rauthgundis, thou art hit?"

"I believe so. Leave me here and save thyself."

"Never! Let me support thee."

"For God's sake,