Voltigeur, and I concealed them among some bushes, so that no one
finding him could know that he was a French horse. Then, leaving
him lying there, I wandered on in search of some place where I
might be safe for the day. In every direction I could see camp
fires upon the sides of the hills, and already figures had begun
to move around them. I must hide quickly, or I was lost.

But where was I to hide? It was a vineyard in which I found
myself, the poles of the vines still standing, but the plants
gone. There was no cover there. Besides, I should want some
food and water before another night had come. I hurried wildly
onward through the waning darkness, trusting that chance would be
my friend.

And I was not disappointed. Chance is a woman, my friends, and
she has her eye always upon a gallant Hussar.

Well, then, as I stumbled through the vineyard, something loomed
in front of me, and I came upon a great square house with another
long, low building upon one side of it. Three roads met there,
and it was easy to see that this was the posada, or wine-shop.

There was no light in the windows, and everything was dark and
silent, but, of course, I knew that such comfortable quarters
were certainly occupied, and probably by someone of importance.
I have learned, however, that the nearer the danger may really be
the safer place, and so I was by no means inclined to trust
myself away from this shelter. The low building was evidently
the stable, and into this I crept, for the door was unlatched.