‘And why not?’ interposed the chief. ‘Do you think there are bears or wolves in the Ardennes forest in September?’
‘But I shall die of cold or hunger! I never endured such usage before!’
‘You’ll have plenty worse when you’ve joined us, I promise you,’ was the short reply, as without further loss of time they passed the cord round my waist, and began, with a dexterity that bespoke long practice, to fasten me to the tree. I protested vigorously against the proceeding; I declaimed loudly about the liberty of the subject; vowed that England would take a frightful measure of retribution on the whole country, if a hair of my head were injured, and even went so far in the fervour of my indignation as to threaten the party with future consequences from the police.
The word was enough. The leader drew his pistol from his belt, and slapping down the pan, shook the priming with his hand.
‘So,’ cried he, in a harsh and savage voice, unlike his former tone, ‘you ‘d play the informer would you? Well, it’s honest at least to say as much. Now then, my man, a quick shrift and a short prayer, for I’ll send you where you’ll meet neither gendarmes nor revenue-officers, or if you do, they’ll have enough of business on their hands not to care for yours.’
‘Spare my life, most amiable monsieur,’ said I, with uplifted hands. ‘Never shall I utter one word about you, come what will. I’ll keep all I’ve seen a secret. Don’t kill the father of eight children. Let me live this time, and I’ll never wander off a turnpike road three yards as long as I breathe.’
They actually screamed with laughter at the terror of my looks; and the chief, seemingly satisfied with my protestation, replaced his pistol in his belt, and kneeling down on the ground began leisurely to examine my knapsack, which he coolly unstrapped and emptied on the grass.
‘What are these papers?’ said he, as he drew forth a most voluminous roll of manuscript from a pocket.
‘They are notes of my travels,’ said I obsequiously—little pen sketches of men and manners in the countries I’ve travelled in. I call them “Adventures of Arthur O’Leary.” That’s my name, gentlemen, at your service.’
‘Ah, indeed. Well, then, we’ve given you a very pretty little incident for your journal this evening,’ said he, laughing, ‘in return for which I’ll ask leave to borrow these memoranda for wadding for my gun. Believe me, Monsieur O’Leary, they’ll make a greater noise in the world under my auspices than under yours’; and with that he opened a rude clasp-knife and proceeded to cut my valued manuscript into pieces about an inch square. This done, he presented two of my shirts to each of his followers, reserving three for himself; and having made a most impartial division of my other effects, he pocketed the purse I carried, with its few gold pieces, and then, rising to his feet said—