the money. He ordered the soldiers to turn
back and make the best of their way to Szaszvar, the money that had been
already spilt was given up for lost. It was of no use for mere men to
attempt to grapple with such a devil incarnate as Fatia Negra.

"After them, after them!--Give me a horse!" roared Fatia Negra to his
comrades as they came galloping up, whereupon they all leaped from their
nags, not so much indeed for the sake of giving him a mount as for the
sake of grabbing the scattered heaps of ducats.

"Let that alone; it won't run away" cried the adventurer. "The bulk of
it is galloping in front of us--follow me!"

And at that, without waiting their decision, he seized one of the
horses, swung himself into the saddle and dashed after the lancers.
Nobody followed him. The robbers were wise enough to perceive that if
they left lying here these thousands of ducats, actually won, in order
to run after ten times as many which they had still to catch, (not to
mention the broken heads which they were sure to get into the bargain),
the loafing members of the confraternity who were following behind them
on foot, would pocket the booty nicely at their ease, so they stayed
where they were, with the comfortable persuasion that Fatia Negra would
be sure to turn back when he perceived he was alone.

He, however, never gave them a thought, but putting spurs to his horse,
pursued the soldiers. In vain. He had no longer a blood horse beneath
him and was unable to overtake the bearers of the lost treasure. Nor did
they halt again to give him anything to do. Looking back from time to
time, they saw how a single horseman was galloping after them, with his
sword blade firmly gripped between his teeth, and a shuddering
recollection of the old nursery tales of nether-world monsters came over
them.

The solitary horseman pursued them right up to the toll-house of
Szaszvar, and even when he gave up the pursuit the toll-man saw him for
a long time trotting round about the outskirts of the town shaking his
fist and shouting imprecations. Once or twice he drew near enough to
fire his pistols through the doors and windows of the toll-house, and so
great was the spell of terror surrounding the person of the terrible
adventurer that nobody ventured outside the city wall to try and
capture him; nay, the burgesses even remained under arms in the streets
all night guarding the principal entrances for fear lest Fatia Negra and
his band might