We were almost upon him, but on the instant I knew Belfort, and he knew me.
"Out of the way!" I cried. "On your life, out of the way!"
"You traitor! You damned traitor!" he shouted, and rode directly at me.
He made a furious sweep at my head with his sabre, but I bent low, and the blade circled over me, whistling as it passed. The next moment, with full weight and at full speed, my horse struck his, and Belfort's went down, the shriek from the man and the terrified neigh from the horse, mingling as they fell.
With a snort of triumph, my horse leaped clear of the fallen and struggling mass, and then we were out of the forest, Mary Desmond still riding by my side, her head bent over her horse's neck as if she were straining her eyes for a sight of the patriots who were still two miles and more away.
"You do not ask me who it was," I said.
"I know," she replied; "and I heard also what he called you."
"'Tis true, he called me that," I replied. "But he is in the dust now, and I still ride!"
We heard musket-shots behind us, and a bullet whizzed uncomfortably near. So Belfort had not been alone. In the shock of our rapid collision I had not had the time to see; but these shots admitted of no doubt.