“Be it so, then,” said the other, as he prepared to take up his burden. At this instant I made a slight effort so to change my position as to obtain a view of the rest of the party. The branch by which I supported myself, however, gave way beneath my grasp with a loud crash. I lost my footing, and slipping downward from the rock, came plump into the stream below. The noise, the splash, and more than all, the sudden appearance of a man beside him, astounded the Frenchman, who almost let fall his pannier, and thus we stood confronting each other for at least a couple of minutes in silence. A hearty burst of laughter from both parties terminated this awkward moment, while the Frenchman, with the readiness of his country, was the first to open the negotiation.
“Sacré Dieu!” said he, “what can you be doing here? You’re English, without doubt.”
“Even so,” said I; “but that is the very question I was about to ask you; what are you doing here?”
“Eh bien,” replied the other, gayly, “you shall be answered in all frankness. Our captain was wounded in the action of the 8th, and we heard had been carried up the country by some peasants. As the army fell back, we obtained permission to go in search of him. For two days all was fruitless; the peasantry fled at our approach; and although we captured some of our stolen property—among other things, the contents of this basket—yet we never came upon the track of our comrade till this evening. A good-hearted shepherd had taken him to his hut, and treated him with every kindness, but no sooner did he hear the gallop of our horses and the clank of our equipments, than, fearing himself to be made a prisoner, he fled up the mountains, leaving our friend behind him; voilà notre histoire. Here we are, three in all, one of us with a deep sabre-cut in his shoulder. If you are the stronger party, we are, I suppose, your prisoners; if not—”
What was to have followed I know not, for at this moment his companion, who had finally lost all patience, came suddenly to the spot.
“A prisoner,” cried he, placing a heavy hand upon my shoulder, while with the other he held his drawn sword pointed towards my breast.
To draw a pistol from my bosom was the work of a second; and while gently turning the point of his weapon away, I coolly said,—
“Not so fast, my friend, not so fast! The game is in my hands, not yours. I have only to pull this trigger, and my dragoons are upon you; whatever fate befall me, yours is certain.”
A half-scornful laugh betrayed the incredulity of him I addressed, while the other, apparently anxious to relieve the awkwardness of the moment, suddenly broke in with,—
“He is right, Auguste, and you are wrong; we are in his power; that is,” added he, smiling, “if he believes there is any triumph in capturing such pauvres diables as ourselves.”