At this time Laflamme was stealing watchfully through the tropical scrub, where hanging vines tore his hands, and the sickening perfume of jungle flowers overcame him more than the hard journey which he had undergone during the past twelve hours.
Several times he had been within voice of his pursuers, and once a Kanaka scout passed close to him. He had had nothing to eat, he had had no sleep, he suffered from a wound in his neck caused by the broken protruding branch of a tree; but he had courage, and he was struggling for liberty—a tolerably sweet thing when one has it not. He found the Cave at last, and with far greater ease than Carbourd had done, because he knew the ground better, and his instinct was keener. His greeting to Carbourd was nonchalantly cordial:
“Well, you see, comrade, King Ovi’s Cave is a reality.”
“So.”
“I saw the boat. The horses? What do you know?”
“They will be at Point Assumption to-night.”
“Then we go to-night. We shall have to run the chances of rifles along the shore at a range something short, but we have done that before, at the Barricades, eh, Carbourd?”
“At the Barricades. It is a pity that we cannot take Citizen Louise Michel with us.”
“Her time will come.”
“She has no children crying and starving at home like—”