Brereton touched Joggles with the spur gently, and the
steed moved forward. Not five steps had been taken before
the horse shied slightly to avoid collision with another, and,
in doing so, he gave a neigh.

"Here 's the fellow, Hennion," spoke up a rider. "Now
we'll be stabled quick enough." He reached out and caught
at the bridle.

There was a swishing sound, as Brereton swung his sword
aloft and brought it down on the extended arm. Using what
remained of the momentum of the stroke, the aide let the
flat of the weapon fall sharply on Joggles' flank; the horse
bounded forward, and, in a dozen strides, had passed through
the disordered troop.

A shrill cry of pain came from the officer, followed by a
dozen exclamations and oaths from the troopers, and then a
sharp order, "Catch or kill him!"

"Ha, Joggles, old boy," chuckled his rider, "there 's not
much chance of our being cold yet a while. But we know the
roads, and we'll show them a trick or two if they'll but stick
to us long enough."

Bang! bang! bang! went some horse-pistols.

"Shoot away!" jeered the aide, softly, though he leaned
low in the saddle as he wheeled through the small opening