I feel it's going to burst, my poor head which hangs so piteously over the right flank of the horse, while at every stride my feet are beating a tattoo against its left flank.

After about an hour of this mad rush, the cavalcade suddenly halts. I'm lifted from the horse, or rather I'm thrown to earth like a bundle of old rags. A few seconds pass, then faintly enough, for I'm three parts dead, I can hear an exchange of words:

(A stirring poem, Mazeppa's Ride, describes the emotions of Ivan Stepanovitch Mazeppa, a Ukrainian, when, having offended a nobleman, he was bound to the back of a fiery untamed steed which was then turned loose to gallop over the Steppes. Mazeppa was however rescued by the Cossacks and rose to be their hetman (Military commander)—i.o.e.)

"She is died"

"No Elt solamenta svenita." ("No, she's only fainted.")

 "Unwrap her," orders, in French, the voice which I attribute to Lieutenant Lacour, "and unwrap the doctor as well."

"This woman.... Is Miss Blazon in danger?"

I feel myself released from the sack and gag which kept me from seeing and breathing. Do my executioners fancy, by any chance, that under these somewhat unattractive toilet articles they're going to find Dr. Chatonnay? Yes, that's just why they busied themselves with my humble person, for as soon as they realized their mistake:

"That isn't him. Get the other!" says the chief, who as I suspected is indeed Lieutenant Lacour.

I look at rum, and I silently utter the most frightful curses. To think I took him for a French officer! . . . Admittedly, I can truthfully say, on my word of honour, that I had suspected the trick from the outset. But I had only suspected it, and not unmasked the bandit under his borrowed plumes. That, as I explained, I've paid for with my head, and it drives me mad. Oh, the scum! ... If ever I get hold of him!

Just then someone comes up and speaks to him, so I hear his real name: Captain Edward Rufus. Captain, indeed! He could be a general, and I shouldn't think any the better of him.

While he's talking, Captain Rufus has given up paying attention to me. I take the opportunity of breathing. It is time. A little more, and I should have been asphyxiated. That must be obvious, and I seem to have turned purple, for the captain, having thrown a glance at me, gives an order which I cannot understand. I'm at once searched. They take my weapons, and my money, but they leave my note-book. These brutes don't realize the value of copy signed "Amedee Florence." Good heavens, what ignorant thieves I'm dealing with!

But the stupid brutes untie my arms and legs, and I can move. I take advantage of this without hesitation, and examine my surroundings.

What first attracts my attention are ten . . . what? . . .