"Now, keep going on!" cried Marc, "in a few minutes we will rejoin you."
"But what are you going to do with that vehicle there?" asked Frantz. "Since we have not time to take it back to the Falkenstein, better put it safe under Cuny's shed than leave it in the middle of the road."
"Yes, to get the poor old fellow strung up when the Cossacks arrive, for they will be here before another hour. Don't trouble yourself about anything. I know what I'm about."
Frantz rejoined the sleigh, which set out on its way. In a short time they passed the sawpit, and then took a short cut to the right to reach the farm of Bois-des-Chênes, whose tall chimney was discernible three-quarters of a league off.
When they were halfway up the mountain, Marc Divès and his men overtook them, calling out to them: "Halt! stop a little while. Look down below there."
And they all, having looked behind towards the bottom of the gorge, saw the Cossacks caracoling round the cart, to the number of two or three hundred.
"They are here! Let us fly!" cried Louise.
"Stay a little," replied the smuggler; "we have nothing to fear."
He was just speaking, when an immense sheet of flame extended its two crimson wings from one mountain to the other, illuminating the woods and rocks to their very summits, as well as the little house of the ranger, then came such an explosion that it made the very earth tremble.
And as all the bewildered spectators stood looking at each other, for the moment speechless and spell-bound with fear, Marc's loud peals of laughter mingled with the sounds that still rang in their ears.