Bobby's lack-lustre eyes followed horse and rider down the road till they grew smaller and smaller still and finally disappeared in the distance. For a moment he felt puzzled. What was de Marmont doing in this stream of senseless, panic-stricken men? What was he doing in the uniform of one of the Allied nations? Why had he laughed so gaily and appeared so triumphant in his mien? Did he not know then that his hero had fallen along with his mighty eagle? that the brief adventure begun in the gulf of Jouan had ended in a hopeless tragedy on the field of Waterloo? But why that uniform? Poor Bobby's head ached too much to allow him to think, and time was getting on. The road now was deserted. The last of the fugitives formed but a cloud of black specks on the line of the horizon far off toward Brussels. From the hayfield there came the merry sound of women's laughter, while far away cannon and musketry still roared. And over the long, straight road--bordered with straight poplar trees--the setting sun threw ever-lengthening shadows. Maurice opened his eyes. "Where am I?" he asked again. "Close to Brussels now," replied Bobby. "To Brussels?" murmured St. Genis feebly. "Crystal!" "Yes," assented Bobby. "Crystal! God bless her!" Then as St. Genis was trying to move, he added: "Can you shift a little?" "I think so," replied the other. "If you could ease the pressure on my leg . . . steady, now! steady! . . . Can you sit up in the saddle? . . . Are you hurt? . . ." "Not much. My head aches terribly. I must have hit it against something. But that is all. I am only dizzy and sick." "Could you ride on to Brussels alone, think you?" "Perhaps." "It is not far. The horse is very quiet. He will amble along if you give him his head." "But you?" "I'd like to rest. I'll find shelter in a cottage perhaps . . . or in the wood." St. Genis said nothing more for the moment. He was intent on sliding down from the saddle without too much assistance from Bobby. When he had reached the ground, it took him a little while to collect himself, for his head was swimming: he closed his eyes and put out a hand to steady himself against a tree. When Maurice opened his eyes again, Bobby was sitting on the ground by the roadside: the horse was nibbling a clump of fresh, green grass. For the first time since that awful moment when stumbling and falling against a pile of dead, with Death behind and all around him, he had heard the welcome call: "Can you pull yourself up?" and felt the steadying grip upon his elbow--Maurice de St. Genis looked upon the man to whom he owed his life.