They were no sooner out of sight than I pulled the stake and sabre, and shoved the latter under my big coat.  Then I lifted the beaver and looked about me.  There was not a soul in sight.  From that level plain the field ran far to a thick wood mounting over the hill.  I moved cautiously that way, for I was in the path of people who would be coming to see the wreck.  I got near the edge of the distant wood, and hearing a noise, halted, and stuck my stake, and drew my hands back in the sleeves, and stood like a scarecrow, peering through my hat.  Near me, in the woods, I could hear a cracking of sticks and a low voice.  Shortly two Irishmen stuck their heads out of a bush.  My heart gave a leap in me, for I saw they were members of my troop.

“Hello, there!” I called in a loud voice, It startled them.  They turned their heads to see where the voice came from, and stood motionless.  I pulled my stake and made for them on the run.  I should have known better, for the sight of me would have tried the legs of the best trooper that ever sat in a saddle.  As they told me afterward, it was enough to make a lion yelp.

“Holy Mother!” said one, as they broke through the bush, running for their lives.  I knew not their names, but I called them as loudly as I dared.  They went on, never slacking pace.  It was a bad go, for I was burning for news of D’ri and the rest of them.  Now I could hear some heavy animal bounding in the brush as if their running had startled him.  I went back to the corn for another stand.  Suddenly a horse came up near me, cropping the brush.  I saw he was one off the boat, for he had bridle and saddle, a rein hanging in two strings, and was badly cut.  My friend! the sight of a horse did warm me to the toes.  He got a taste of the tender corn presently, and came toward me as he ate.  In a moment I jumped to the saddle, and he went away leaping like a wild deer.  He could not have been more frightened if I had dropped on him out of the sky.  I never saw such energy in flesh and blood before.  He took a mighty fright as my hand went to his withers, but the other had a grip on the pommel, and I made the stirrups.  I leaned for the strings of the rein, but his neck was long, and I could not reach them.  Before I knew it we were tearing over the hill at a merry pace, I can tell you.  I was never so put to it for the right thing to do, but I clung on.  The big hat shook down upon my collar.  In all my life I never saw a hat so big.  Through the break in it I could see a farm-house.  In a jiffy the horse had cleared a fence, and was running, with the feet of terror, in a dusty road.  I grew angry at myself as we tore along—­I knew not why.  It was a rage of discomfort, I fancy, for somehow, I never felt so bound and cluttered, so up in the air and out of place in my body.  The sabre was working loose and hammering my knee; the big hat was rubbing my nose, the straw chafing my chin.  I