The horses of the fugitives began to stagger, and I noticed it with exultation. Obviously, they could not escape us now. We soon gained rapidly, and I shouted to them to halt. One of the men whirled about quickly and fired a pistol. The bullet whizzed between Marcel and me, and its only result was to add anger to the motives that drew us on. We gained yet more rapidly, and cried anew to them to halt. A second pistol bullet was the reply, but, like its predecessor, it went wide of the target. We galloped on, and each of them fired at us again, and missed. "We have them now!" cried Marcel. "Their pistols are empty, and they cannot reload them while going at this pace!" In truth they were doomed apparently to be our prisoners and that, too, speedily. Our horses were the swifter and stronger, and our loaded pistols were in our belts. The fugitives seemed helpless. "Stop or we fire!" we shouted. They looked back as if studying their chances, and I saw their faces clearly. When they had fired their pistols, the glimpse had been too fleeting, but I knew them now. They were Vivian and Belfort. My heart thrilled with various emotions. Vivian was our good friend, a man of whom we had the most pleasant memories. We could not fire upon him. Belfort was my enemy, yet I believed that I had triumphed over him, and surely one can afford to forgive the enemy from whom he has taken the victory. I could not fire upon him, in such a situation, any more than I could fire upon Vivian. "Lower your pistol!" I cried to Marcel. "Do you not see who they are?" "I do see, and you are right," said Marcel, as he replaced his weapon in its holster. We gradually checked the speed of our horses, and in a few moments the fugitives began to draw away from us. Five minutes later they galloped across the fields and to the safety of their own army. Whether they recognized us or not, I do not know. As we turned and rode back through the suburbs, a woman on horseback met us. It was Mary Desmond. "Why did you let them go?" she asked, speaking to me, rather than to Marcel. "They were Vivian and Belfort," I replied. "Surely you would not have had us to fire upon either?" "I should not have forgiven you, if you had," she replied. She said that she had come out to meet the American force, and she had seen part of our pursuit. She, too, bore the flush of triumph upon her face, and in truth it was a great day for her as well as for us. She had done a man's work, and more than a man's work in the cause of her country. "Yes, I am glad you let them go," she repeated as we rode back together. "It is not likely that we shall ever see either again."