a sharp sound from among them, and, glancing round, I saw a face looking out at me—a hot, red face, like that of a man who is beside himself with excitement and anxiety. A second glance told me that it was the very person with whom I had talked an hour before in the village.
"Come nearer!" he hissed. "Nearer still! Now dismount and pretend to be mending the stirrup leather. Spies may be watching us, and it means death to me if I am seen helping you."
"Death!" I whispered. "From whom?"
"From the Tugendbund. From Lutzow's night-riders. You Frenchmen are living on a powder magazine, and the match has been struck that will fire it."
"But this is all strange to me," said I, still fumbling at the leathers of my horse. "What is this Tugendbund?"
"It is the secret society which has planned the great rising which is to drive you out of Germany, just as you have been driven out of Russia."
"And these T's stand for it?"
"They are the signal. I should have told you all this in the village, but I dared not be seen speaking with you. I galloped through the woods to cut you off, and concealed both my horse and myself."
"I am very much indebted to you," said I, "and
