“We have thought of everything,” continued the general, “but there isn’t the faintest hope of doing anything.  Falkenried will force them to close, he never turns back, and then he and hundreds, yes, thousands, of his men, will perish.”

He began his walk again, too excited to keep still.  But the young prince stood by helpless; then a sudden bright thought entered his mind.

“Your excellency?”

“Well?”

“If it were possible in spite of everything, to send the despatches by the mountain path—­a good rider could get to R——­ by to-morrow morning; to be sure he’d have to ride for life or death—­dash right through the enemy.”

“What folly!  You are a soldier and should know that such a course would be madness.  The boldest rider would be shot down before he had been gone an hour.”

“But if one could find the man who would make the attempt?  I know a man who would do it.”

The general scowled at the young man.

“Do you mean that you would venture upon this useless exposure?  I forbid it, once for all, Prince Adelsberg.  I pride myself upon my officers’ bravery, but I cannot permit any such senseless experiments.”

“I do not mean myself, your excellency,” said Egon, earnestly.  “The man whom I mean is in the seventh regiment, and is at this moment on outpost duty on Chapel mountain.  It was he who brought me word of the prisoner.”

The general shook his head thoughtfully.

“I tell you it’s impossible, but—­who is the man?”

“Joseph Tanner.”

“A private?”

“Yes, a volunteer.”

“You know something about him?”

“Yes, your excellency; he is perhaps the best rider in the whole army,—­bold to a fault and capable enough, in case of necessity, to act with the caution of an officer.  If the thing can be done, that man’ll do it.”

“And you believe—­it’s a terrible responsibility to ask a man to ride to sure death—­you believe the man will do it freely—­willingly?”

“I’ll swear he will, your excellency.”

“Then I dare not refuse, though it’s a fearful venture.  I’ll send for Tanner at once.”

“May I take the order to him?” interrupted Egon, quickly.  The general turned in surprise and looked at him.

“You, yourself, do you mean?  Why?”

“Only to save time.  The way which Tanner must take lies over Chapel mountain; before he’d get to headquarters and back again to his starting place an hour would be lost.”

There was nothing to be said in answer to this, and yet the general felt there was something about the whole affair which he did not understand.  A common soldier rarely undertook, voluntarily, a mission which drove him into the arms of death, but the old warrior asked no further questions, he only said:  “You will be responsible for the man?”

“Yes,” said Egon, quietly but emphatically.

“Good, then you can give him all the necessary instructions; there is one thing more; he must have credentials if he ever reaches our own posts, for any detention would be fatal where every minute counts.”