"Pardieu!" exclaimed the hatless. "We're caught!"
A big van loaded with straw blocked the way. Behind it skulked a whole platoon of blue uniforms. The fugitives hesitated for a second or two.
"Over with it!" shouted the hatless young man, at the same moment appropriating a deserted headpiece.
"Down with the agents!"
A dozen stalwart young men seized the big wheels. The top-heavy load wavered an instant, then went over with a simultaneous swish and a yell.
The latter came from the police agents, now half buried in the straw.
A second squadron of cavalry, Garde de Paris, drawn up near by, witnessed this incident and smiled. These little pleasantries amuse all good Parisians.
Safety now lay in separation. Jean kept on towards the Rue Royale; his friends broke off, scattering towards the Rue de Rivoli.
"Que diable!" he muttered.
He stopped and looked hastily about him.