f myself,
and laughed to think of it, although facing a deadly peril, as I
knew. But I was young and had no fear in me those days. Would
that a man could have his youth to his death-bed! It was a leap in
the dark, but I was ready to take my chances.

Evidently I was nearing a village. Groups of men were in the shady
thoroughfare; children thronged the dooryards. There was every
sign of a holiday. As we neared them I caught my sabre under my
knee, and drew my hands into the long sleeves and waved them
wildly, whooping like an Indian. They ran back to the fences with
a start of fear. As I passed them they cheered loudly, waving
their hats and roaring with laughter. An old horse, standing
before an inn, broke his halter and crashed over a fence. A scared
dog ran for his life in front of me, yelping as he leaped over a
stone wall. Geese and turkeys flew in the air as I neared them.
The people had seemed to take me for some village youth on a
masquerade. We flashed into the open country before the sound of
cheering had died away. On we went over a long strip of hard soil,
between fields, and off in the shade of a thick forest. My horse
began to tire. I tried to calm him by gentle words, but I could
give him no confidence in me. He kept on, laboring hard and
breathing heavily, as if I were a ton's weight. We came to another
clearing and fields of corn. A little out of the woods, and near
the road, was a log house white-washed from earth to eaves. By the
gate my horse went down. I tumbled heavily in the road, and
turning, caught him by the bits. The big hat had shot off my head;
the straw had fallen away. A woman came running out of the open
door. She had bare feet, a plump and cheery face.

"Tonnerre!" said she. "Qu'est ce que cela?"

"My countrywoman," said I, in French, feeling in my under-trousers
for a bit of silver, and tossing it to her, "I am hungry."

"And I have no food to sell," said she, tossing it back. "You
should know I am of France and not of England. Come, you shall
have enough, and for no price but the eating. You have a tired
horse. Take him to the stable, and I will make you a meal."

I led my horse to the stable, scraped him of lather and dirt, gave
him a swallow of water, and took the same myself, for I had a
mighty thirst in me. When I came in, she had eggs and potatoes and
bacon over the fire, and was filling the tea-kettle.

"On my soul," said she, frankly, "you are