'Ouf! Out of it at last!' I gasped out to Nicholas.
'It's a mile yet to the river, monsieur,' he answered, slackening pace slightly to allow me to get alongside of him.
The dog, however, was not yet shaken off, and kept steadily beside my horse. In the bright moon I could see him running freely and easily; and, much as I cursed his presence there, I could not help but admire the gallant beast. He seemed to know perfectly the danger that lay in the long shining sword, that thrust out at him like a snake's tongue whenever he came too near.
I, however, owed him one for the bruise, and it was not a time to waste in admiring things. So I called to Nicholas.
'Slacken pace a little more. I want to be rid of the dog.'
'We can kill him in the river,' answered the sergeant.
'Better stop him here,' and Nicholas obeyed.
Seeing us slacken, the hound tried to head the horses. This was exactly what I wanted; and shortening the reins, I pulled round my nag suddenly, right upon the dog, and, stooping low, gave him a couple of inches in the quarters as he attempted to double. It was not a wound that would kill. I had no intention, unless forced to, of doing that; but it had the desired effect, and he fled back howling with pain.
'Adieu, monsieur!' I cried out after him with a laugh, and joining the sergeant we cantered on through the clearing towards the river.
The ill-will I felt towards Nicholas had gone by this time. He had borne himself like a brave man, as he was; and, after all, if I had been in his position I would perhaps have done the same, and let drive at de Gomeron at sight. My little nag, however, at this time began to show signs of distress, and I turned my attention from the sergeant to husbanding the poor beast's strength—patting him on his foam-covered neck to encourage him, and speaking to him in the manner that horses love. Pardieu! If men only knew it, there are moments when a touch of the hand and a kind word are better than four-inch spurs.