Presently the sound of voices came through the trees—deep rumbling voices of men. Then the brush swished and here and there the noise of a stone that one of them kicked with the toe of his heavy boot. I peered out as cautiously as I could. They came into view a flash at a time from among the thick trunks. Then I summoned my will and took in a deep breath. The men were not ten feet away muttering and talking and growling that they had been aroused so untimely from their sleep. I saw their faces clearly and even the color of their eyes. [Illustration: They Came Into View From Among the Thick Trunks] Suddenly they looked up and stopped as though they had been confronted by a ghost. I sprang to the other side of my tree and peered out again. To my amazement, the scrivener was standing directly before them. He was swinging his cap low so that it swept the ground and he laid his hand over his heart like a courtier. With a bow that might have shamed a prince he said in a soft voice: “Gentlemen, I am the highwayman of Tours. Are you looking for me?” I knew it was my time to act. While the two fellows stood thus uncertain trying to collect their wits, I leaped out. Before either of them could stir, I had gathered my fist into a ball. I swung as hard as ever I delivered a blow in my life. My bare knuckles struck the man nearest me so violently that I felt the jar of it clear to my elbow. I caught him behind the ear. He hung for a second as though he were suspended in the air. Then, like a bag that is suddenly dropped, he sank unconscious to the earth. Before I could glance about the scrivener had straightened himself. With one of his springs he came hurtling through the air. The fellow had half turned when he saw his companion fall and was not entirely on his guard. The scrivener’s heels struck him like a weight in the chest. As though his legs were cut away from under him, he flew back and rolled over to the foot of the tree. “Quick!” cried my companion. I needed no urging. As fast as my anxious fingers could manage, I undid the fastenings that bound the quiver of arrows to my fellow’s shoulder. Then I snatched up the bow and turned to see what the next move would be. The scrivener had done as I had done, only with more dispatch. He stepped back and laid an arrow in the bow. “Up with you!” he cried. “Back to your master, De Marsac, and say that the highwayman of Tours sends him his compliments. Tell him that we shall meet him further down the road on the way to Angers. Tell him to keep a keen edge on his sword for when we meet again the one or the other of us shall die!” I never saw a man fly before an enemy so quickly. Before I could wink he had turned and was soon hidden among the trees.