"Ah!" he exclaimed, preparing to meet the furious onslaught, "you have
not yet found your way to the gallows!"
"No; here in Hungary only traitors are hanged," retorted Satan Laczi, in
a loud voice, as, with a mighty leap that would have done credit to a
horse, he sprang toward the marquis, caught the reins from his hands,
and with true robber-wit called: "Surrender, brother-rascal!"
De Fervlans raised himself in his stirrups and brought his saber
savagely down on the robber's head. This was the second serious cut
Satan Laczi had received that day, and was evidently enough to calm his
enthusiasm. He staggered to one side, made several vain attempts to
straighten himself, then fell suddenly to the earth. His own blade,
however, remained in the breast of De Fervlans's horse, where he had
thrust it to the hilt.
The marquis hardly had time to leap from the saddle before the poor
beast fell under him.
All seemed lost now. His men were confused and thrown into disorder. In
desperation he tore his pistols from the saddle of his fallen horse.
Only a single shrub separated him from his enemy,--twenty paces,--and De
Fervlans was a celebrated shot.
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