"This grows monotonous," I mused. "If there were only fewer of them, or more of me, I would make a stand."
Presently I came up with the young man in the brown doublet. He stared at me with a look of inquiry as I passed at such speed; then he looked back and saw the distant horsemen coming on at equal speed. He appeared to realize the situation at a glance. Without a word, he gave his own horse a touch of the spur, with the manifest intention of keeping my company in my flight.
"You have a good horse," I said to him, at the same time watching him out of the corner of my eye, seeking some indication that might show whether, on occasion, he would stand as my friend or my enemy.
"Better than yours, I fear, monsieur," he replied.
"Mine has been hard run," I said, lightly.
Presently he looked back, and said:
"Ah, the devil! Your friends, back there, are sending out an advance guard. Three of them are making a race of it, to see which shall have the honor of first joining you."
I looked back. It was true; three of them were bearing down with great speed, evidently on fresh horses. Barbemouche remained back with the rest.
I urged on my horse.
"It is useless, monsieur," said the young man at my side. "Your beast is no match for theirs. Besides, you will not find a better place to make a stand than the bridge yonder." And he pointed ahead to a bridge that crossed a narrow stream that lay between high banks.