But one thing I had forgotten--the Sambre. In my excitement I
never gave it a thought until I saw it, deep and broad, gleaming
in the morning sunlight. It barred my path, and the Prussians
howled behind me. I galloped to the brink, but the horse refused
the plunge. I spurred him, but the bank was high and the stream
deep.
He shrank back trembling and snorting. The yells of triumph were
louder every instant. I turned and rode for my life down the
river bank. It formed a loop at this part, and I must get across
somehow, for my retreat was blocked. Suddenly a thrill of hope
ran through me, for I saw a house on my side of the stream and
another on the farther bank. Where there are two such houses it
usually means that there is a ford between them. A sloping path
led to the brink and I urged my horse down it. On he went, the
water up to the saddle, the foam flying right and left. He
blundered once and I thought we were lost, but he recovered and
an instant later was clattering up the farther slope.
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