Behind me rode a French dragoon, his carbine pressed tightly to his side, ready to fire as he pressed on in pursuit.

I had but one chance; so drawing my pistol I wheeled suddenly in my saddle, and fired straight at him.

The Frenchman fell, while a regular volley from his party rung around me, one ball striking my horse, and another lodging in the pommel of my saddle.

The noble animal reeled nearly to the earth, but as if rallying for a last effort, sprang forward with renewed energy, and plunged boldly into the river.

For a moment, so sudden was my leap, my pursuers lost sight of me; but the bank being somewhat steep, the efforts of my horse to climb again discovered me, and before I reached the field two pistol-balls took effect upon me,--one slightly grazed my side, but my bridle-arm was broken by the other, and my hand fell motionless to my side.