THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
I told him what was to happen in the next few hours, he broke out in loud jubilation.
“I will take you with my own horses as far as they can travel,” he exclaimed.
“But our nearest friend is in Neu-Strelitz,” I replied; “that is a good many miles from here. Will your horses hold out that distance?”
“The devil take them if they don't,” said Hensel. We resolved then to risk it and to confide ourselves to benignant fate. A short conversation with Poritz and Leddihn followed about the measures necessary to keep the streets clear of unwelcome intruders, while Kinkel was swinging down on his rope. Those measures were simple. My friends were to occupy the street corners with their stalwart fellows whom they had already employed last night, and if some belated reveler should show himself, they were to simulate intoxication and use all sorts of means to divert the unwelcome person from our path. In case of necessity they were to use force. Poritz and Leddihn vouched for everything.
“Happy coincidence,” chuckled Krüger. “This evening some of the officers of the penitentiary are to celebrate a birthday in this hotel. There will be a bowl of punch, and I will make that punch especially irresistible.”
“And you will detain those officers long enough?”
“You may be sure of that. Not one of them will cross your way.” This prospect put us into the best of humor, and we had a cosy little supper together. Our thoughts were, however, constantly directed to the accidents that might again play mischief with us, and fortunately an important possibility occurred to us.
At the time of Kinkel's descent from the dormer window hanging on his rope, the rubbing of the rope against the edge
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