“Yes,” I said, “it paid.  And now let us push forward.”

Strangely enough, now that Jacques had recovered his composure I began to feel nervous, and more than once caught myself glancing round as if half expecting to see a body of pursuers on our track.  However, we proceeded all day without adventure, slept for two or three hours at a village inn, and resumed our journey in high spirits.

“We should reach the Loire by midday,” remarked Jacques.  “Shall we go into the town and cross by the bridge, or try for a ford?  There is one a little to the north.”

“The ford will suit our purpose,” I said, “and I hardly care about trusting myself in the town.”

There still wanted two hours to noon when, coming to a grassy and tree-shaded plateau through which ran a sparkling stream, Jacques proposed that we should rest the horses.  So we dismounted, gave them a drink, fastened them to a tree, and lay down beside them.

“Monsieur might be able to sleep,” suggested Jacques.  “I will watch, but we cannot afford more than an hour.”

“We will take turns,” I said.

“Not at all, monsieur.  I do not feel sleepy.  I will waken you in good time.”

Feeling refreshed by the short rest I was just remounting when a rough, sturdy-looking fellow came along, riding a powerful horse.

“Good-day, messieurs,” he said, glancing at us, I thought, very keenly; “am I on the right track for Nevers?”

“Yes,” I answered rather curtly.

“Perhaps monsieur is himself going there?  I am a stranger in these parts.”

“No,” I replied, “we are not going to the town, but you cannot miss the way.”

He hung about for some time, trying to make conversation, but presently rode on, and a bend in the road hid him from our view.

“An ugly customer to meet on a dark night, Jacques,” I remarked.

“Let us push on, monsieur; that fellow meant us no good.  Did you notice his speech?”

“No.”

“I did; he comes from our own neighbourhood.  It is possible he has seen us before.”

“And what of that?”

“Nothing, except that it is curious,” and Jacques quickened his pace.

At the end of a quarter of a mile a cross-road to the left led to the river, and along this track we travelled.  It was very narrow, so narrow, indeed, that we were forced to ride in single file, Jacques going before.  The stranger had disappeared; no one was in sight; the countryside seemed deserted.

“Do you know where the ford is situated?” I asked.

“I have a fairly good notion.  Ah, what is that?” and he reined up sharply.

From our position we could just catch a glimpse of several horsemen riding swiftly along the bank of the river.  They were out of sight in a few minutes, and we proceeded in a somewhat uncomfortable frame of mind.

“They can have nothing to do with us, Jacques,” I said cheerily.