I could see the lines of Massena's camp no very great distance off, for, by a lucky chance, the chase had taken us in that direction.

I turned from the dead fox, saluted with my sabre, and galloped away.
But they would not leave me so easily, these gallant huntsmen.

I was the fox now, and the chase swept bravely over the plain.

It was only at the moment when I started for the camp that they could have known that I was a Frenchman, and now the whole swarm of them were at my heels.
We were within gunshot of our pickets before they would halt, and then they stood in knots and would not go away, but shouted and waved their hands at me.

No, I will not think that it was in enmity.