He took the heavy revolver from the holster and was duly grateful for
one thing he had noticed--these Uhlans carried no carbines. Their only
weapons, seemingly, were their lances and the revolvers in their
holsters.
He was not a moment too soon. Schmidt came back almost at once, leading
his horse. He was scolding it for running, and he was also expressing
his opinion of government saddles and leather. He found the broken
girth, and sat down at once to mend it. Fred scarcely dared to breathe
for a moment. But Schmidt did not notice the empty holster, and though
he growled and swore when he saw how the girth had snapped, he did not
seem to notice that it had been cut almost through.
Fred went over and looked at him. Then, idly, indifferently, he went to
the horse, which was standing perfectly still, though its flanks were
still heaving. Fred patted the horse's head. Schmidt glanced around at
him. His back was turned, and he seemed to see nothing worthy of
attention in Fred's attitude.
And then, with one spring, Fred was on the horse's back, and, bending
low, was urging the tired animal back over the road he had travelled so
slowly.
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