“Come, citizen,” he added, and this time he really smiled, “it is evident that you are not the game I am after.” “I should hope so,” I agreed. “I am looking for a wolf, not for a mouse.” “At least I am not a wolf,” I conceded. “Old Dubosq has seen too much of the world to be mistaken in a matter so clear as this,” he continued, throwing out his chest. “A conspirator? Bah! You don’t know its meaning. You’re too pink and white--too much of the nursery--its odor clings to you! Why, infant, you’ve never before been away from your mother!” I flushed, and he burst into a roar of laughter as he saw my face. “A hit!” he cried. “Ah, citizen, would I could blush like that! But for Dubosq that day is past and far away. Come, my friend, all you need is a little knowledge of the world to be a perfect devil with the ladies. Join my troop and let Dubosq finish you, polish you, give you the true air. Come; it shall be my revenge.” “Your revenge?” “Against the women. They have made me suffer and have laughed. A month ago I won my promotion, but a petticoat intervened, and the reward which should have been mine passed to another. Some day I will tell you----” A shout from his men interrupted him. We sprang to our feet and saw, just topping the rise in the road, another rider. He drew short up at the shout and at sight of the guard barring his passage. Then he wheeled sharp around as though to retreat, but again stopped. Dubosq chuckled. “Caught!” he cried. “But why doesn’t he go back?” I asked. “Because, my child, there’s another detachment across the road down yonder, as you would have seen had you looked around.” He drew a pistol from his belt and fired it in the air. “That will bring them on,” he added. “Now, citizen, you will see the trap close--the trap of Sergeant Dubosq. Advance, men! Bring him down if he attempts to escape.” The Blues began to advance slowly, their guns presented. “Hold your horse, citizen,” said Dubosq, “and wait here for me. I have something more to say to you;” and he set off after his men. The fugitive looked about him again. He was fairly caught between two fires. In a moment he must surrender, covered by twenty muskets. But he did not wait for that moment. Instead he put his horse at the ditch, leaped it, and made off across the fields. “Fire!” yelled Dubosq. “Fire!” A volley of shots rang out, echoed by another from up the road, and my heart rejoiced as I saw the fugitive keep on unharmed. But only for an instant. His horse bounded twice, then staggered and fell headlong. The Blues gave a yell of triumph, leaped the ditch and started after their quarry, spreading fan-wise so that he could not escape. But he sprang from the saddle even as his horse fell, and ran with surprising speed toward a cluster of trees just ahead. In a moment he had disappeared among them.