lard's sword cut through his adversary's wrist and at the same
instant Fatia Negra's yataghan fell from his hand.

The wounded robber set up a howl like a wild beast and Juon, lurking
beneath the verandah of the mill responded with another howl of joy that
sounded like an echo. The blind man had recognized that Fatia Negra was
in danger and at once rushed out upon him.

The disarmed adventurer lost his presence of mind along with his sword.
His right hand suddenly sank helpless to his side and his stout heart
was seized with a sort of paralysis. He perceived that this was the man
sent by fate to announce to him that his last hour was at hand. He
turned and fled toward the forest.

Szilard rushed after him.

"Take care," screamed blind Juon. But none heeded him. Fatia Negra flew
away before his enemy. At first he left him far behind, but gradually
the continuous loss of blood began to weaken him and it also occurred to
him that even if he succeeded in distancing his adversary, he would
still leave a trail of blood behind him. To complete his confusion the
moon made the whole region as light as day. He was forced to sit down on
a tree stump to tie up his wounded hand; at least he would stop the flow
of blood and make the trail more difficult to follow.

While with the help of his left hand and his teeth he was binding up his
useless right hand, his pursuer overtook him.

"Fatia Negra--surrender!"

The only reply the adventurer gave was to try to fire his pistols and
finding them only flash in the pan he hurled them one after the other at
his enemy's head. Szilard then had practical experience of the rumor
that Fatia Negra could throw very well even with his left hand,--had he
not leaped aside at the nick of time the pistols would have dashed his
brains out.

Then up Fatia Negra started to his feet again and fled away still
further. The pursuer and the pursued now sped along with pretty equal
energy, though the loss of blood continued to weaken the robber. Yet he
made one desperate effort to scale the steep side of the mountain. An
ordinary man could rarely breast such an ascent, yet he tried it. But he
soon found that even thus he could not shake off his enemy. He remained
indeed some hundreds of paces behind but he could not dodge out of his
sight in the now open glade.

On the brow of the hill the adventurer stopped to pant and surveyed the
undulating thickly wooded hills stretching away on every side of him.