advance.

"Hello! we're not the only ones jogging along. Eh, what's that?"
Something flashed brightly, like silver reflecting moonlight; then came
a spark of flame, which died immediately, and later Maurice caught an
echo which resembled the bursting of a leaf against the lips. "Come;
that looks like a pistol shot."

Again the flash of silver, broader and clearer this time; and Maurice
could now separate the shadow-shapes. A carriage of some sort rolled
from side to side, and two smaller shadows followed its wild flight.
One--two--three times Maurice saw the sparks and heard the faint
reports. He became excited. Something extraordinary was taking place on
the lonely road. Suddenly the top of the carriage replied with spiteful
flashes of red. Then the moon came out from behind the clouds, and
the picture was vividly outlined. Two continuous flashes of silver....
Cuirassiers! Maurice loosened the rein, and the horse went forward as
smoothly as a sail. The distance grew visibly less. The carriage opened
fire again, and Maurice heard the sinister m-m-m of a bullet winging
past him.

"The wrong man may get hit, Bucephalus," he said, bending to the neck
of the horse; "which is not unusual. You're pulling them down, old boy;
keep it up. There's trouble ahead, and since the cuirassiers are for the
king, we'll stand by the cuirassiers."

On they flew, nearer and nearer, until the pistol shots were no longer
echoes. Two other horsemen came into view, in advance of the carriage.
Five minutes more of this exciting chase, and the faces took on lines
and grew into features. Up, up crept the gallant little horse, his hoofs
rattling against the road like snares on a drum. When within a dozen
rods, Maurice saw one of the cuirassiers turn and level a revolver at
him. Fortunately the horse swerved, and the ball went wide.

"Don't shoot!" Maurice yelled; "don't shoot!"

The face he saw was von Mitter's. His heart clogged in his throat, not
at the danger which threatened him, but at the thought of what that
carriage might contain.

A short time passed, during which nothing was heard but the striking
of galloping hoofs and the rumble of the carriage. Maurice soon drew
abreast of von Mitter. There was a gash on the latter's cheek, and the
blood from it dripped on his cuirass.

"Close for you, my friend," he gasped; when he recognized the new
arrival. "Have you--God! my leg that time," with a groan.

For the fire of the carriage ha