At that moment a single shot rang out, Captain Poul threw up his hands, letting his sabre go, and fell from his horse, which instead of running away, touched his master with its smoking nostrils, then lifting its head, neighed long and low.

The dragoons retreated.
"So perish all the persecutors of Israel!" cried the leader, brandishing his carbine.

He then dashed down into the ravine, picked up Captain Poul's sabre and jumped upon his horse.

The animal, faithful to its old master, showed some signs of resistance, but soon felt by the pressure of its rider's knees that it had to do with one whom it could not readily unseat.

Nevertheless, it reared and bounded, but the horseman kept his seat, and as if recognising that it had met its match, the noble animal tossed its head, neighed once more, and gave in.