Sure enough there was a voice—a human voice. It sounded like the moaning of some one who lay upon a bed of sickness! It was low, and apparently distant.
“It’s like as if some poor devil was giving his last kick?” muttered one of the cuirassiers.
“It’s only the owls hooting among the trees,” suggested another.
“Hush!” again exclaimed the corporal. “There are other voices—nearer. Hush!”
“Good!” he ejaculated, after listening a while. “There are men coming along the road behind us! It must be them! Here! three of you on this side; the others across the road. Lie quiet till they come close up. When I give the word, spring out upon them. Quick, comrades! Not a movement till you hear my signal!”
Promptly obedient to these instructions, the soldiers drew themselves into the thicket—some dropping upon their knees among the bushes—others standing erect, but screening their bodies behind the trunks of the beeches.
The corporal disposed of himself in a similar fashion; while the guide, having glided off to a greater distance, stood trembling among the trees—like some guilty denouncer—dreading to look upon the spectacle of that capture she had conducted to the probability of a too certain success.