The last words could scarcely be heard as the big coach rattled down the road, while Stephen smiled grimly and made no reply. Mother Jeanne, between hysterical sobs, was crying out in voluble French that the ride would kill Monsieur Sheffield and that they might as well have remained at home to be murdered comfortably in their beds. At this Clotilde sat up, dried her eyes and fell to comforting her, that Stephen might have, at least, some peace and quiet on this sad journey. The stars began to show in a misty sky and, by the pale light she could see that they were slowly mounting a long, steep hill. Here they waited for a time until the soldiers, who had dropped behind, could catch up with them. Miles came to the coach window to tell them that this was the point he had chosen to make his stand and that they were to drive on for three miles to a little inn that would give them shelter. “Should there be danger, I will send a messenger to bid you flee farther,” he said, “but for that, I am sure, there will be no need. The enemy is pushing on, hot foot, to capture you and us, and will fall headlong into our hands.” He dropped behind once more, and the big coach rumbled and jolted on into the dark. Up the long hill it crawled, then paused again to rest the horses for a moment on the summit before it went over the crest and plunged into the sheltered valley beyond. Looking back, Clotilde thought she could see a far, red glow in the sky that faded even as she watched, and died down so quickly that she did not speak of it. After that things seemed to become confused in the darkness, it seemed only a moment before they arrived at the inn, where the sleepy, blinking landlord came out to lead them inside. They heard a sound of far-off firing as they dismounted from the coach. Inside, with the fire rebuilt and the settles pulled forward to the blaze, she and Mère Jeanne sat facing Stephen and waited, so it seemed, for something like a hundred years. Although she thought that it would be wicked to sleep when they were in such trouble and Miles in such grave danger, still she dozed against Mother Jeanne’s shoulder, woke and fell asleep again, this time so soundly that she never knew when they laid her down, covered her with a cloak and let her slumber quietly the whole night through. She sat up with a start, however, when, just as day broke, there was a loud knocking at the door and Miles burst in, ruddy, excited and triumphant. “The victory is ours!” he cried. “We held them stoutly until the other troops came up to help us, and the whole band of King George’s men had to surrender. There are six English officers prisoners, looking as though they would rather stab themselves than be taken by a handful of backwoods patriots and there are, I know not how many German privates, hired by King George to fight his rebels for him.” “And so you have them all?” said Stephen; “that is indeed well done!”