r I had left him I heard a distant gunshot
and a shouting from somewhere behind me. It may have been some sportsman
halloaing to his dogs, but I never again heard of or saw the man who had
given me my warning.

I kept a good look-out after this, riding swiftly where the country was
open, and slowly where there might be an ambuscade. It was serious for
me, since 500 good miles of German soil lay in front of me; but somehow
I did not take it very much to heart, for the Germans had always seemed
to me to be a kindly, gentle people, whose hands closed more readily
round a pipe-stem than a sword-hilt--not out of want of valour, you
understand, but because they are genial, open souls, who would rather be
on good terms with all men. I did not know then that beneath that homely
surface there lurks a devilry as fierce as, and far more persistent
than, that of the Castilian or the Italian.

And it was not long before I had shown to me that there was something
more serious abroad than rough words and hard looks. I had come to a
spot where the road runs upwards through a wild tract of heath-land and
vanishes into an oak wood. I may have been half-way up the hill when,
looking forward, I saw something gleaming under the shadow of the
tree-trunks, and a man came out with a coat which was so slashed and
spangled with gold that he blazed like a fire in the sunlight. He
appeared to be very drunk, for he reeled and staggered as he came
towards me. One of his hands was held up to his ear and clutched a great
red handkerchief, which was fixed to his neck.

I had reined up the mare and was looking at him with some disgust, for
it seemed strange to me that one who wore so gorgeous a uniform should
show himself in such a state in broad daylight. For his part, he looked
hard in my direction and came slowly onwards, stopping from time to time
and swaying about as he gazed at me. Suddenly, as I again advanced, he
screamed out his thanks to Christ, and, lurching forwards, he fell with
a crash upon the dusty road. His hands flew forward with the fall, and I
saw that what I had taken for a red cloth was a monstrous wound, which
had left a great gap in his neck, from which a dark blood-clot hung,
like an epaulette upon his shoulder.

'My God!' I cried, as I sprang to his aid. 'And I thought that you were
drunk!'

'Not drunk, but dying,' said he. 'But thank Heaven that I have seen a
French officer while I have still strength to speak.'

I laid