"I am the guide for my master, Mister Marshall of Ambler, Lord of America, on his grand tour through Europe. He has heard that a distinguished buccaneer by name of Guillaume de Beauvalleehas made his camp somewhere around here, and he-" At this point Melchior showed a grimace of resignation and disgust, "-wants to make his acquaintance.

"Are you, o honorable rural workers, by any chance able to fulfill his desire, and tell us the location of this encampment? An appropriate gratification will be awarded."

The men looked at each other, obviously trying to make a sense from this flood of pretentious words. Then one after another, each shook his head.

Marshall and Melchior had carefully devised this scene to reveal the hideout of Schontal and his gang. Melchior had declared that he was not completely convinced that these bandits had indeed abducted Maria. Marshall, however, had convinced him that he would not give up until he knew the facts.

Either nobody knew, or nobody dared to tell.

****

Shortly after the three continued on their way, Marshall heard a shout from behind. One of the peasants they passed was running after them. They stopped and turned.

"I know it," the man gasped. "How much?"

He obviously didn't want to share his knowledge and the reward with the other men.

"One Groschen," Melchior said.

"One Thaler," the man replied.

"Melchior," the arrogant voice of Marshall came from behind. "Don't bargain. But we'll return, if the information turns out to be wrong."

" Yess, mein Lord," Melchior answered and looked questioningly in the man's eyes.

" Mein Lord,"the man echoed. "I will not betray you, I don't dare to."

The old windmill near the road between Bechstedt and Isseroda was the bandits' hideout. The Imperials had killed its owner two years before, and since then apparently nobody had dared to reopen the mill because the old miller’s ghost still dwelled there.

Yeah, a haunted mill, Marshall thought, always a good pretext to keep the superstitious natives at distance.

Schontal and his gang had taken possession of the mill, and used it as their headquarters. It was far enough from the High Road to be hidden from view, but near enough to start their raids from here.

When Melchior heard this, he uttered the mysterious words "So we will have to fight the windmills, too."

Marshall looked at him, and decided not to pursue the odd comment, except to say: "We will possibly fight atthe windmill, but by then we better have a good plan to emerge unscathed."

Either I am mistaken, or this is going to be the most famous adventure that has ever been seen.

Windmill at the road from Bechstedt to Isseroda

Near Weimar, New United States, CPE

Next morning

Maria Becker left the windmill where the Hessian murderer and his cronies kept their supplies. With all the power of her twelve-year-old muscles, she dragged a sack of flour down the ramp. The thugs wanted bread for breakfast, so she had to start the dough now.

Suddenly she saw a man on a horse. A tall, haggard man, wearing a strange kind of suit. He had something like a lance in his right hand, and a hat with a big brim on his head. The bandits had apparently noticed him, too. Schontal had already gotten up and now went to meet the strange man, holding a pistol casually in his hand.

Marshall slowly approached the windmill on his horse. The bandits were sitting at a campfire, where something was cooking in a pot. Their horses were tied to some stakes in a meadow nearby.

Most of their guns could be seen strapped to their saddles some yards away, but some of the men nevertheless had wheel lock pistols and sabers lying close at hand.

When they noticed Marshall, they grabbed their weapons. A short, sturdy man with an enormous black mustachio and a pistol in his hand rose and took several steps forward.

Noticing that Marshall was obviously unarmed apart from the ranging pole he had removed from its sheath and now was holding upright like a lance, he started to smile. It was a sneering, arrogant grin.

He bowed deeply before Marshall. "Guillaume de Beauvallee, a votre service,"he said, but the following words gave away his thick Hessian dialect. "Whom do I have the honor to meet on this wonderful morning?"

"I'm Marshall Ambler, and I've come-" He pointed to the young girl, who had just left the windmill, and who hauled a large sack. "-to retrieve your captive."

"Oh, yes." The bandit's grin was now only sardonic. "You, and which army?" He waved about with his pistol. His cronies laughed joyfully.

"Mr. Bill Bo-valley, I don't need an army, as long as I have my magical instruments with me." He lowered the ranging pole; its point was still several yards away from Schontal, but now pointing to his forehead. "So please drop all your guns and make your way back into whatever rat-hole you have crawled out of."

"Oh, so you are one of these mythical ' Americains.'" He lifted his pistol and carefully aimed at Marshall's upper body. "But do you know what I think? I think-"

Nobody would ever learn what thoughts really crossed his mind at that moment. A muffled cracksplit the quietness of the morning, and a red flower bloomed on Schontal's forehead.

The fact that the back of his head blew away at the same time added to the absurdity of the event. Marshall could still see a kind of puzzlement in his eyes, when Schontal slowly fell on his back. The same puzzlement now showed on the faces of his cronies.

Marshall changed the aim of his pole to the next of the bandits, who had not yet brought his pistol to the ready. "Do I have to repeat this lesson or will you drop your weapons and run?"

Suddenly the expressions on the bandits' face changed from puzzlement to horror. All of them dropped their pistols and sabers and began to flee.

Melchior rose from behind the little mound where he had hidden before sunrise. It was only fifty yards from Marshall's actual position, and though Melchior had practiced with the up-time hunting rifle only for a week, he had developed a very good aim, at least at short distances.

He held the gun still, ready to react if one of the bandits changed his mind and returned. But they still were running as if pursued by a dragon.

When they had disappeared behind the next grove, Marshall whistled, and Andreas appeared with the mules. As soon as the boy saw his sister, he jumped off his mount and ran to hug her. The girl was still stunned by the bloody dreadful event, which had happened before her eyes. But when her brother reached her, she managed a little smile.

"Come on," Marshall said. "We don't know how long they need to regain composure and return here. So let's gather their belongings and then make like a tree and leave."

Then, smiling at the girl he said, "Maria, do you think you can ride a mule? Or do you want to ride with me?"

Ask a girl whether she wants to ride on a horse, in Ancient Egypt, Rome, Germany or West Virginia, and the reply is always the same.

Maria extended both arms, and Marshall lifted her on his horse's back before his saddle.

Melchior and Andreas gathered the horses and saddles of the bandits, and all together started to Weimar.