They obeyed him now with a rush that seemed almost to partake of panic.
In a frenzied haste Fanfulla and another tore the tetherings loose, and a
moment later they were all mounted and ready for that fearful ride. The
night was dark, yet not too dark. The sky was cloudless and thickly
starred, whilst a minguant moon helped to illumine the way by which they
were to go. But on that broken and uncertain mountain path the shadows
lay thickly enough to make their venture desperate.

Ferrabraccio claiming a better knowledge than his comrades of the way,
placed himself at their head, with the Count beside him. Behind them,
two by two, came the four others. They stood on a small ledge in the
shadow of the great cliff that loomed on their left. Thence the
mountain-side might be scanned--as well as in such a light it was to be
discerned. The tramp of feet had now grown louder and nearer, and with
it came the clank of armour. In front of them lay the path which sloped,
for a hundred yards or more, to the first corner. Below them, on the
right, the path again appeared at the point where it jutted out for some
half-dozen yards in its zigzag course, and there Fanfulla caught the
gleam of steel, reflecting the feeble moonlight. He drew Ferrabraccio's
attention to it, and that stout warrior at once gave the word to start.
But Francesco interposed.

"If we do so," he objected," we shall come upon them past the corner, and
at that corner we shall be forced to slacken speed to avoid being carried
over the edge of the cliff. Besides, in such a strait our horses may
fail us, and refuse the ground. In any event, we shall not descend upon
them with the same force as we shall carry if we wait until they come
into a straight line with us. The shadows here will screen us from them
meanwhile."