“Dieu!” said she.  “Tell him to drive on.”

I got to my seat quickly, confident that nature had not intended me for a lady’s-maid.  Awhile later we heard the call of a picket far afield, but saw no camp.  A horseman—­I thought him a cavalry officer—­passed us, flashing in our faces the light of a dark lantern, but said nothing.  It must have been near midnight when, as we were going slowly through deep sand, I heard the clang of a cow-bell in the near darkness.  Another sounded quickly a bit farther on.  The driver gave no heed to it, although I recognized the signal, and knew something would happen shortly.  We had come into the double dark of the timber when, suddenly, our horses reared, snorting, and stopped.  The driver felt for his big pistol, but not in the right place; for two hours or more it had been stowed away in the deep pocket of my gown.  Not a word was spoken.  By the dim light of the lanterns we could see men all about us with pikes looming in the dark.  For a breath or two there was perfect silence; then the driver rose quickly and shouted:  “Who are you?”

“Frien’s o’ these ’ere women,” said one I recognized as the Corporal D’ri.

He spoke in a low tone as he opened the door.

“Grace au ciel!” I heard one of the young ladies saying.  “It is D’ri—­dear old fellow!”

Then they all hurried out of the coach and kissed him.

“The captain—­is he not here?” said one of them in French.  But D’ri did not understand them, and made no answer.

“Out wi’ the lights, an’ be still,” said D’ri, quickly, and the lights were out as soon as the words.  “Jones, you tie up a front leg o’ one o’ them hosses.  Git back in the brush, ladies.  Five on ’em, boys.  Now up with the pike wall!”

From far back in the road had come again the clang of the cow-bell.  I remember hearing five strokes and then a loud rattle.  In a twinkling I was off the seat and beside the ladies.

“Take hold of my dress,” I whispered quickly, “and follow me.”

I led them off in the brush, and stopped.  We could hear the move and rattle of cavalry in the near road.  Then presently the swish of steel, the leap and tumble of horses, the shouting of men.  My companions were of the right stuff; they stood shivering, but held their peace.  Out by the road lights were flashing, and now we heard pistols and the sound of a mighty scuffle.  I could stay there in the dark no longer.

“Wait here, and be silent,” I said, and ran “like a madwoman,” as they told me long after, for the flickering lights.