plain, away we went. One loud cheer announced to us that we had been seen,
and the next instant the clash of the pursuing cavalry was heard behind us.
It was now entirely a question of speed, and little need we have feared
had Mike's horse not been doubly weighted. However, as we still had
considerably the start, and the gray dawn of day enabled us to see the
ground, the odds were in our favor. "Never let your horse's head go," was
my often repeated direction to Mike, as he spurred with all the desperation
of madness. Already the low meadow-land was in sight which flanked the
stream we had crossed in the morning, but unfortunately the heavy rains had
swollen it now to a considerable depth, and the muddy current, choked with
branches of trees and great stones, was hurrying down like a torrent. "Take
the river! never flinch it!" was my cry to my companions, as I turned my
head and saw a French dragoon, followed by two others, gaining rapidly upon
us. As I spoke, Mike dashed in, followed by Hampden, and the same moment
the sharp ring of a carbine whizzed past me. To take off the pursuit from
the others, I now wheeled my horse suddenly round, as if I feared to take
the stream, and dashed along by the river's bank.

[Illustration: A FLYING SHOT.]

Beneath me in the foaming current the two horsemen labored,--now stemming
the rush of water, now reeling almost beneath. A sharp cry burst from Mike
as I looked, and I saw the poor fellow bend nearly to his saddle. I could
see no more, for the chase was now hot upon myself. Behind me rode a French
dragoon, his carbine pressed tightly to his side, ready to fire as he
pressed on in pursuit. I had but one chance; so drawing my pistol I wheeled
suddenly in my saddle, and fired straight at him. The Frenchman fell, while
a regular volley from his party rung around me, one ball striking my horse,
and another lodging in the pommel of my saddle. The noble animal reeled
nearly to the earth, but as if rallying for a last effort, sprang forward