"But, one morning, one of the travelers made a sudden turn, and drew nearer to his neighbor. And they all stopped to look.
"The man toward whom the famished soldier drew near did not fly, but lay flat on the ground, and took aim at the one who was coming on. When he believed he was within gunshot, he fired. The other was not hit, and he continued then to advance, and cocking his gun in turn, killed his comrade.
"Then from the entire horizon, the others rushed to seek their share. And he who had killed the fallen man, cutting the corpse into pieces, distributed it.
"And they once more placed themselves at fixed distances, these irreconcilable allies, preparing for the next murder which would bring them together.
"For two days, they lived on this human flesh which they divided amongst each other. Then, the famine came back, and he who had killed the first man began killing afresh. And again, like a butcher, he cut up the corpse, and offered it to his comrades, keeping only his own portion of it.
"And so this retreat of cannibals continued.
"The last Frenchman, Pobequin, was massacred at the side of a well, the very night before the supplies arrived.
"Do you understand now what I mean by the Horrible?"
This was the story told us a few nights ago by General de G——.