I called D’ri, and bade him feed the horses quickly.  I went to see General Brown, but he and Wilkinson were on the latter’s gig, half a mile out in the harbor.  I scribbled a note to the farmer-general, and, leaving it, ran to the stables.  Our horses were soon ready, and D’ri and I were off a bit after daylight, urging up hill and down at a swift gallop, and making the forest ring with hoof-beats.  Far beyond the chateau we slackened pace and went along leisurely.  Soon we passed the town where they had put up overnight, and could see the tracks of horse and coach-wheel.  D’ri got off and examined them presently.

“Purty fresh,” he remarked.  “Can’t be more ’n five mild er so further on.”

We rode awhile in silence.

“How ye goin’ t’ tackle ’em?” he inquired presently.

“Going to stop them somehow,” said I, “and get a little information.”

“An’ mebbe a gal?” he suggested.

“Maybe a gal.”

“Don’ care s’ long as ye dew th’ talkin’.  I can rassle er fight, but my talk in a rumpus ain’ fit fer no woman t’ hear, thet ’s sart’in.”

We overtook the coach at a village, near ten o’clock.

D’ri rushed on ahead of them, wheeling with drawn sabre.  The driver pulled rein, stopping quickly.  M. de Lambert was on the seat beside him.  I came alongside.

“Robbers!” said M. de Lambert, “What do you mean?”

The young ladies and Brovel were looking out of the door, Louise pale and troubled.

“No harm to any, m’sieur,” I answered.  “Put up your pistol.”

I opened the coach door.  M. de Lambert, hissing with anger, leaped to the road.  I knew he would shoot me, and was making ready to close with him, when I heard a rustle of silk, and saw Louise between us, her tall form erect, her eyes forceful and commanding.  She stepped quickly to her father.

“Let me have it!” said she, taking the pistol from his hand.  She flung it above the heads of some village folk who had gathered near us.

“Why do you stop us?” she whispered, turning to me.

“So you may choose between him and me,” I answered.

“Then I leave all for you,” said she, coming quickly to my side.

[Illustration:  “Then I leave all for you.”]

The villagers began to cheer, and old D’ri flung his hat in the air, shouting, “Hurrah fer love an’ freedom!”

“An’ the United States of Ameriky,” some one added.

“She is my daughter,” said M. de Lambert, with anger, as he came up to me.  “I may command her, and I shall seek the aid of the law as soon as I find a magistrate.”

“But see that you find him before we find a minister,” I said.

“The dominie!  Here he is,” said some one near us.

“Marry them,” said another.  “It is Captain Bell of the army, a brave and honorable man.”

Does not true love, wherever seen, spread its own quality and prosper by the sympathy it commands?  Louise turned to the good man, taking his hand.