A couple of men galloped down stream a little below me, and, dismounting, began to load hurriedly, it being evidently their intention to pick me off as I drifted past. For the moment I gave myself up for lost; but, determining to make a last effort to save myself, made a snatch at the willows that overhung the bank and brushed us with their wet and dripping leaves as we struggled underneath. As I did this, I loosed my hold of the saddle, and the horses slid past me, and I was dragged by the current right into the bank. The willows were tough, and I held on to them like a leech, and the troopers, who had seen what I was about, began to laugh at me, and adjure me to hold on tight as they would be ready to shoot in a moment. The fools! They gave me the moment's time I wanted, and, digging my boot into the soft bank, I laid hold of the stem of a willow and with an effort reached the shore. I rolled over at full length, and then lay flat on my face, whilst the troopers with many curses ran forward a few feet and let off their arquebuses, on the off chance of bringing me down. They aimed truly enough, and had I not lain to earth as I did, I should infallibly have been killed, for the bullets whizzed past, it seemed, but a few inches above me. I let out a yell as if I was mortally hurt, and then rising, ran down stream behind the willows as fast as my bruised leg would allow me, to see if I could not get back one or both the horses. My stratagem had the desired effect, for on my cry of 'I am dead--I am dead,' two others of the men who had run up let off their pieces where I was supposed to be, and they all shouted, 'We have him; he is down.' '_Morbleu!_ Not yet,' I could hardly refrain from chuckling to myself, as I hobbled along the bank, and to my joy saw them in a little bay, about a hundred paces from me, moving slowly in the shallow water. One behind the other, towards the land. A spur had been thrown out here, evidently with the object of protecting the bank, and it had cast the main stream on the opposite shore, and given the beasts a chance of landing. I felt my leg at each step I took; but went on at a round pace somehow, and came up to Couronne just as she was stepping out of the water. Catching her by the bridle, I mounted, although with some difficulty, and slipping my hands through the reins of my own nag, trotted off under cover of the trees, leaving M. de Gomeron, who had doubtless recovered by this time, and his men to make a target of the darkness. I had come through somehow, but I was sick and sore at heart, as I urged Couronne from a trot to a gallop, when I thought of poor Nicholas lying dead by the banks of the Eure. CHAPTER VIII MONSIEUR DE PREAULX