Sultan was a horse of remarkable intelligence and fidelity.  He had known fighting before now—­had carried his rider through many a skirmish before this; and his fidelity and affection equalled his intelligence.  With the wonderful instinct that seems always to exist between horse and rider who have known each other long, he appeared to divine that his master’s case was somewhat desperate, and that he needed an ally in his cause.  And thus when the pair bore down upon the robber, who was coolly awaiting the charge, Sultan took law into his own hands, and overthrew the plan both of attack and defence by a quick movement of his own.  For he swerved slightly as he approached the man, and rising suddenly upon his hind legs, brought down all the weight of his iron shoe with tremendous force upon the head of the adversary, who fell to the ground with a low groan, and lay as helpless as his former comrade.

But excellent as this manoeuvre was in one aspect, it disconcerted the rider by its suddenness; and when as the horse reared the second robber sprang upon the rider to try and drag him from his seat, the effort was only too successful.  The traveller was easily pulled away from the saddle, and fell heavily to the ground; whilst the foe uttered a savage exclamation of triumph, and knelt with his knee upon the chest of the fallen man, his bloody and distorted visage bent over him in evil triumph.  He was feeling in his belt for his dagger; and the young man closed his eyes and tried to mutter a prayer, for he knew that his hour had come at last.

He had sold his life dear, but sold it was, and the next moment he felt certain would be his last; when all in a moment there was another of those loud reports of the gun.  The man kneeling upon his chest fell suddenly backwards; and the youth, starting to his feet, was confronted by the spectacle of the maiden he had rescued, white and trembling, and almost overcome by her own deed, holding in her hand the still smoking gun, whilst her eyes, dilated with horror, were fixed upon the helpless creature in the dust.

“Is he dead?” she asked in a hollow voice.

“I cannot tell,” answered the youth hastily.  “It were better not to linger longer here.  Their own band will come and look to them if they return not by sundown.  Let us to horse and away before any of the gang come.  Sultan will carry the pair of us well, and you will tell us which course to steer; for the night will be upon us ere long, and I am a stranger to these dark forests.”

Whilst thus speaking, the traveller was throwing keen glances round him, and saw that the men, though wounded, were not all dead—­though one certainly was, and the other, whom Sultan had attacked, was scarce likely to look again upon the light of day.  The leader of the band had fallen again to the earth, and was enveloped in the folds of the heavy cloak, from which he appeared to be feebly struggling to disentangle himself.  The girl followed the direction of the youth’s glance, and explained the matter in a few short words.