en freed, so that I had only
to slip my hands out of the cords, and with a single rush I had flown
across, picked up my sabre where it lay by the fire, and hurled myself
on to the saddle of poor Vidal's horse. Yes, for all my wounded ankle, I
never put foot to stirrup, but was in the seat in a single bound. I tore
the halter from the tree, and before these villains could so much as
snap a pistol at me I was beside the English officer.

'I surrender to you, sir,' I cried; though I daresay my English was not
very much better than his French. 'If you will look at that tree to the
left you will see what these villains do to the honourable gentlemen who
fall into their hands.'

The fire had flared up at that moment, and there was poor Vidal exposed
before them, as horrible an object as one could see in a nightmare.
'Godam!' cried the officer, and 'Godam!' cried each of the four
troopers, which is the same as with us when we cry 'Mon Dieu!' Out
rasped the five swords, and the four men closed up. One, who wore a
sergeant's chevrons, laughed and clapped me on the shoulder.

'Fight for your skin, froggy,' said he.

Ah, it was so fine to have a horse between my thighs and a weapon in my
grip. I waved it above my head and shouted in my exultation. The chief
had come forward with that odious smiling face of his.

'Your excellency will observe that this Frenchman is our prisoner,' said
he.

'You are a rascally robber,' said the Englishman, shaking his sword at
him. 'It is a disgrace to us to have such allies. By my faith, if Lord
Wellington were of my mind we would swing you up on the nearest tree.'

'But my prisoner?' said the brigand, in his suave voice.

'He shall come with us to the British camp.'

'Just a word in your ear before you take him.'

He approached the young officer, and then turning as quick as a flash,
he fired his pistol in my face. The bullet scored its way through my
hair and burst a hole on each side of my busby. Seeing that he had
missed me, he raised the pistol and was about to hurl it at me when the
English sergeant, with a single back-handed cut, nearly severed his head
from his body. His blood had not reached the ground, nor the last curse
died on his lips, before the whole horde was upon us, but with a dozen
bounds and as many slashes we were all safely out of the glade, and
galloping down the winding track which led to the valley.

It was not until we had left the ravine far behind us and were