SOPHY OF KRAVONIA
Going was very heavy, so was the rain, so was the darkness; he and his horse made a blurred, laboring shape on the murky face of night. But his orders were to hasten, and he pushed on at a sharp trot and soon covered his first stage, the five miles to the old wooden bridge, where the road leaves the course of the Krath, is carried over the river, and strikes northeast, towards the hills.
At this point he received the first intimation that his journey was not to be so solitary as he had supposed. When he was half-way across the bridge, he heard what sounded like an echo of the beat of his horse's hoofs on the timbers behind him. The thing seemed odd. He halted a moment to listen. The sound of his horse's hoofs stopped but the echo went on. It was no echo, then; he was not the only traveller that way! He pricked his horse with the spur; regaining the road, he heard the timbers of the bridge still sounding. He touched his horse again and went forward briskly. He had no reason to associate his fellow-traveller's errand with his own, but he was sure that when General Stenovics ordered despatch, he would not be pleased to learn that his messenger had been passed by another wayfarer on the road.
But the stranger, too, was in a hurry, it seemed; Markart could not shake him off. On the contrary, he drew nearer. The road was still broad and good. Markart tried a canter. The stranger broke into a canter. "At any rate, it makes for good time," thought Markart, smiling uneasily. In fact, the two found themselves drawn into a sort of race. On they went, covering the miles at a quick, sustained trot, exhilarating to the men, but rather a strain on their horses. Both were well mounted. Mar-
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