Then the doctor's voice came in a low angry hiss:

"Yes, boy," he said, and his voice sounded like a harsh whisper, "we are
upon the wrong road; but the Count led, and I thought of nothing but
making our escape."

"Are we to rein in, sir? Will you not tell him at once?" whispered
Denis, leaning towards him as near as he could get.

"No; we can do nothing now but gallop on. There is certainly pursuit
going on hot foot behind us--somewhere," he added, after a slight pause;
"and perhaps it is in the Count's wisdom that he has chosen this way,
for if we were beyond earshot when pursuit commenced, the guard would
naturally divine that we should be making for some southern port.
Perhaps all is working for the best."

"Ah!" ejaculated Denis excitedly, for Francis reeled again in his
saddle, this time towards his young esquire, who spurred his steed level
with the King's just in time to save him from falling headlong to the
ground.

"Ah!" he muttered angrily. "This horse is going lame, and we shall be
last. Poor broken beast, I have ridden him too hard, and--I like it
not; I like it not."

"Master Leoni!" cried Denis excitedly, as the King recovered himself
once more. "The Comte, sir--the Comte!"

"I know. I saw. Keep as you are now, as close as you can ride. I'll
keep level on the other side. We must reach water somehow, and I will
give him to drink. It is the excitement. He is ill."

"No, no, sir!" cried Denis wildly. "He is wounded."

"What!" shouted Leoni.

"My hand and sleeve are wet with blood. Look, sir, look!" For the moon
was shining brightly down upon them now. "A horrible cut upon his
brow!"

"Halt!" cried Leoni; and at the command the horses stopped so suddenly
that but for the hands of his followers the King would have been thrown
upon his horse's neck.

"Are we to get him down?" panted Denis.

"No," said Leoni, cool and stern as if, in spite of the emergency,
danger was afar. "Support him that side." And letting his horse's rein
fall upon the neck he drew his little _flacon_ from the breast of his
doublet, unscrewed the top, and passing his arm round the King's
shoulders, the head fell back, and the doctor pressed the neck of the
little flask between his lips, while Francis yawned slightly, and a few
drops trickled over his dry hot tongue. A few drops--no more--and then
the top was screwed on the flask, it was returned to its owner's breast,
and he busily examined the King's for