With a cry of mingled rage and surprise Schmidt leaped up and
began shouting. But the horse, ready enough to obey when it was running
riderless away, now obeyed the more convincing orders of its rider.
Fred, moreover, was a welcome contrast to Schmidt's big bulk; there was
a difference of at least seventy pounds.
Fred turned once to look at Schmidt, and saw him staring with an
expression of stupefaction at the empty holster. Then he devoted himself
entirely to the road ahead. It was as he had thought and hoped; Schmidt
did not have another pistol. And, with Fred urging him on, the horse
galloped on as if it had been really fresh.
"Thank heaven he's stupid, that Schmidt!" thought Fred.
Then he had a fit of remorse. He was afraid that it would go hard with
Schmidt, for he knew that in the German army excuses are not readily
accepted. However, it was not a time to think of sentiment. Fred was
taking desperate chances himself, and it had been a case of seizing any
chance of escape that offered itself. Not only his own liberty, but very
probably his own life had depended upon his getting away. He knew
enough, by this time, to understand that the outcome of the first
campaign of the war might depend upon the accuracy of the information
the Russians obtained of the German movements.
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