"This way!" cried Robeccal, "they have made their escape toward the forest."
"I know every inch of the forest," answered the Brigadier, waving his sword, as if he were about to attack an enemy.
Cyprien stood biting his lips. Could it be that Fanfar was to escape him now? The police rode off at a rapid pace, and Cyprien felt that they must overtake the fugitives.
About two miles from the village the road wound round a hill, on one side of which was a deep precipice. Day was breaking, and Robeccal, who of course had joined in the pursuit, rose in his stirrups in hopes to see some sign of the men they were pursuing.
Suddenly one of the horses fell, then the one behind meeting with the same obstacle, fell also, until five out of the seven were on the ground.
"It is a rope!" cried the Brigadier, "a rope stretched across the road—the rascals!"
The men who were in their saddles leaped to the ground and endeavored to assist their comrades, one of whom had a leg broken.
Robeccal stamped with rage.
"Halloo!" cried a voice, "you had best meddle with honest people again!" And Bobichel, standing on the side of the road, danced with glee.
"You shall pay for that!" shouted Robeccal, and snatching a pistol from the belt of one of the police, he fired at Bobichel.