He heard soon the distant beat of hoofs and he drew a little to the side of the road, down which he could see a long distance, as it stretched straight before him, narrow and steep.  He made out clearly a half dozen figures, hussars struggling forward on tired horses, and he chuckled a little to himself.  It was a splendid weapon that he held in his hand, and he was a great marksman.  Armed as he was, he felt that he had little to fear on that lone mountain road from six or seven horsemen.

He pushed the rifle forward a little and waited in the shadow of the pines.  The hoofbeats rang louder, and the shadows became the distinct figures of horses and men.  Picard uttered a deep “Ah!” because he recognized the one who led them, a powerful, erect man, the Prussian Rudolf von Boehlen, now in the very center of the moonlight.

When they were yet two hundred yards away, Picard stepped into the middle of the road and called to them in a loud voice to halt.  He saw von Boehlen throw up his head, say something to his troop, and then try to urge his horse to a faster gait.

Picard sighed.  He knew that von Boehlen was a brave man and he respected brave men.  A disagreeable task lay before him, one that must be done, but he would give him another chance.  He called again and louder than before for them to halt, but von Boehlen came on steadily.  Then Picard promptly raised his rifle and shot him through the heart.

When von Boehlen fell dead in the road his hussars halted and while they were hesitating Picard shot the horses of two under them, while a third received a bullet in the shoulder.  Then all of them fled on horse or on foot into the valley while Picard went calmly back to the fire which was now sending its signal across the whole heavens.  He told John in a whisper of what had befallen, and soon he returned to his place in the road to watch.

John and Julie by and by left Suzanne to feed the fire and they stood hand in hand gazing now at the heavens and now at the dark pine forests.  The velvet blue of the sky faded into the dark hour and then the dawn came, edged with silver, turning to pink and then to gold, like a robe of many colors, drawn slowly out of the infinite.  Suzanne suddenly uttered a great cry.

“Look up!  Look up, my children!” she cried.

Coming out of the west which was yet in dusk was a black dot and then three others—­behind it in Indian file.

“We’re saved,” cried Suzanne.  “It’s Monsieur Philip and his friends’”

“How do you know?  You can’t see yet,” said John, almost afraid to hope.

“I don’t need to see it!  I feel it, and I know!” replied Suzanne.  “Look, how they come!”

John trembled and the hand of Julie in his own trembled too, but it was not fear, it was the feeling that a miracle, a miracle to save them, was coming to pass.

The four black dots moved on out of the west and John knew that they were aeroplanes coming swiftly and directly toward their mountain.  The dawn reaching the zenith spread also to the west and the flying machines were outlined clearly in the luminous golden haze.  Then John, too, uttered a great cry.