“It seems he’s a ci-devant; but he was recommended from Orange, and, as he pays twenty sous fees, you must treat him as you would a patriot.” “Very well,” replied the other; “he shall be driven accordingly.” The traveller thought the time had come to intervene. He raised the blind and said: “And you’ll only be doing me justice. A patriot? Deuce take it! I pride myself upon being one, and of the first calibre, too! And the proof is--Drink this to the health of the Republic.” And he handed a hundred-franc assignat to the postilion who had recommended him to his comrade. Seeing the other looking eagerly at this strip of paper, he continued: “And the same to you if you will repeat the recommendation you’ve just received to the others.” “Oh! don’t worry, citizen,” said the postilion; “there’ll be but one order to Lyons--full speed!” “And here is the money for the sixteen posts, including the double post of entrance in advance. I pay twenty sous fees. Settle it among yourselves.” The postilion dug his spurs into his horse and they were off at a gallop. The carriage relayed at Lyons about four in the afternoon. While the horses were being changed, a man clad like a porter, sitting with his stretcher beside him on a stone post, rose, came to the carriage and said something in a low tone to the young Companion of Jehu which seemed to astonish the latter greatly. “Are you quite sure?” he asked the porter. “I tell you that I saw him with my own eyes!” replied the latter. “Then I can give the news to our friends as a positive fact?” “You can. Only hurry.” “Have they been notified at Servas?” “Yes; you will find a horse ready between Servas and Sue.” The postilion came up; the young man exchanged a last glance with the porter, who walked away as if charged with a letter of the utmost importance. “What road, citizen?” asked the postilion. “To Bourg. I must reach Servas by nine this evening; I pay thirty sous fees.” “Forty-two miles in five hours! That’s tough. Well, after all, it can be done.” “Will you do it.” “We can try.” And the postilion started at full gallop. Nine o’clock was striking as they entered Servas. “A crown of six livres if you’ll drive me half-way to Sue without stopping here to change horses!” cried the young man through the window to the postilion. “Done!” replied the latter. And the carriage dashed past the post house without stopping. Morgan stopped the carriage at a half mile beyond Servas, put his head out of the window, made a trumpet of his hands, and gave the hoot of a screech-owl. The imitation was so perfect that another owl answered from a neighboring woods. “Here we are,” cried Morgan. The postilion pulled up, saying: “If we’re there, we needn’t go further.” The young man took his valise, opened the door, jumped out and stepped up to the postilion. “Here’s the promised ecu.”