closed on Jack's arm.

"Come to the hill," she said; "I cannot stand that."

On the crest of the wooded ridge crouched Tricasse, bared sabre
stuck in the ground before him, a revolver in either fist. Around
him lay his men, flat on the ground, eyes focussed on the turn in
the road below. Their eyes glowed like the eyes of caged beasts,
their sinewy fingers played continually with the rifle-hammers.

Jack hesitated, his arm around Lorraine's body, his eyes fixed
nervously on the bend in the road.

Something was coming; there were cries, the trample of horses,
the shuffle of footsteps. Suddenly an Uhlan rode cautiously
around the bend, glanced right and left, looked back, signalled,
and started on. Behind him crowded a dozen more Uhlans, lances
glancing, pennants streaming in the wind.

"They've got a woman!" whispered Lorraine.

They had a man, too--a powerful, bearded peasant, with a great
livid welt across his bloodless face. A rope hung around his
neck, the end of which was attached to the saddle-bow of an
Uhlan. But what made Jack's heart fairly leap into his mouth was
to see Siurd von Steyr suddenly wheel in his saddle and lash the
woman across the face with his doubled bridle.

She cringed and fell to her knees, screaming and seizing his
stirrup.

"Get out, damn you!" roared Von Steyr. "Here--I'll settle this
now. Shoot that French dog!"

"My husband, O God!" screamed the woman, struggling in the dust.
In a second she had fallen among the horses; a trooper spurred
forward and raised his revolver, but the man with the rope around
his neck sprang right at him, hanging to the saddle-bow, and
tearing the rider with teeth and nails. Twice Von Steyr tried to
pass his sabre through him; an Uhlan struck him with a lance-butt,
another buried a lance-point in his back, but he clung like a
wild-cat to his man, burying his teeth in the Uhlan's face, deeper,
deeper, till the Uhlan reeled back and fell crashing into the road.

"Fire!" shrieked Tricasse--"the woman's dead!"

Through the crash and smoke they could see the Uhlans staggering,
sinking, floundering about. A mounted figure passed like a flash
through the mist, another plunged after, a third wheeled and flew
back around the bend. But the rest were doomed. Already the
franc-tireurs were among them, whining with ferocity; the scene
was sickening. One by one the battered bodies of the Uhlans were
torn from their frantic horses until only one remained--Von
S