I thought much of poor D'ri and how he might be faring. The last I had seen of him, he was making good use of pistol and legs, running from tree to tree. He was a dead shot, little given to wasting lead. The drums were what worried me, for they indicated a big camp, and unless he got to the stirrups in short order, he must have been taken by overwhelming odds. It was near sundown when I came to a brook and falls I could not remember passing. I looked about me. Somewhere I had gone off the old trail--everything was new to me. It widened, as I rode on, up a steep hill. Where the tree-tops opened, the hill was covered with mossy turf, and there were fragrant ferns on each side of me. The ground was clear of brush and dead timber. Suddenly I heard a voice singing--a sweet girl voice that thrilled me, I do not know why, save that I always longed for the touch of a woman if badly hurt. But then I have felt that way having the pain of neither lead nor steel. The voice rang in the silent woods, but I could see no one nor any sign of human habitation. Shortly I came out upon a smooth roadway carpeted with sawdust. It led through a grove, and following it, I came suddenly upon a big green mansion among the trees, with Doric pillars and a great portico where hammocks hung with soft cushions in them, and easy-chairs of old mahogany stood empty. I have said as little as possible of my aching wound: I have always thought it bad enough for one to suffer his own pain. But I must say I was never so tried to keep my head above me as when I came to that door. Two figures in white came out to meet me. At first I did not observe--I had enough to do keeping my eyes open--that they were the Mlles. de Lambert. "God save us!" I heard one of them say. "He is hurt; he is pale. See the blood running off his boot-leg." Then, as one took the bit, the other eased me down from my saddle, calling loudly for help. She took her handkerchief--that had a perfume I have not yet forgotten--as she supported me, and wiped the sweat and dust from my face. Then I saw they were the splendid young ladies I had seen at the count's table. The discovery put new life in me; it was like a dash of water in the face. I lifted my hat and bowed to them. "Ladies, my thanks to you," I said in as good French as I knew. "I have been shot. May I ask you to send for a doctor?" A butler ran down the steps; a gardener and a stable-boy hurried out of the grove. "To the big room--the Louis-Quinze," said one of the girls, excitedly, as the men came to my help. The fat butler went puffing upstairs, and they followed, on each side of me. "Go for a doctor, quick," said one of them to the gardener, who was coming behind--a Frenchman who prayed to a saint as he saw my blood.