“Leave everything, you wretched man,” I exclaimed, “or I will call out.”
Six pairs of boots, taken from the corpses, fell noisily on to the hard ground. The man stooped down for his revolver, which he had taken out of his pocket at the same time as the stolen objects.
“Will you leave that, and get away quickly?” I said, “my patience is at an end.”
“But if I am caught I shan’t be able to defend myself,” he exclaimed, in a fit of desperate rage.
“It will be because God willed it so,” I answered. “Go at once or I will call.” The man then made off, abusing me as he went.
Our little driver then fetched a soldier to whom I related the adventure, showing him the objects.
“Which way did the rascal go?” asked a sergeant who had come with the soldier.
“I can’t say,” I replied.
“Oh, well, I don’t care to run after him,” he said, “there are enough dead men here.”
We continued our way until we came to a place where several roads met, and it was then possible for us to take a road a little more suitable for vehicles.