But how? Only, it seemed, by open force. My heart began to flutter as I planned it; and then grew steady again. A hundred paces before us a gully or ravine on the left ran up into the snow-field. Opposite its mouth a jumble of stones and broken rocks covered the path. I marked this for the place. The knave would need both his hands to hold up his nag over the stones, and, if I turned on him suddenly enough, he might either drop his gun, or fire it harmlessly.
But, in the meantime, something happened; as, at the last moment, things do happen. While we were still fifty yards short of the place, I found his horse's nose creeping forward on a level with my crupper; and, still advancing, until I could see it out of the tail of my eye, and my heart gave a great bound. He was coming abreast of me: he was going to deliver himself into my hands! To cover my excitement, I began to whistle.
"Hush!" he muttered fiercely: his voice sounding strange and unnatural. My first thought was that he was ill, and I turned to him. But he only said again, "Hush! Pass by here quietly, Monsieur."
"Why?" I asked mutinously, curiosity getting the better of me. For had I been wise I had taken no notice; every second his horse was coming up with mine. Its nose was level with my stirrup already.
"Hush, man!" he said again. This time there was no mistake about the panic in his voice. "They call this the Devil's Chapel. God send us safe by it! It is late to be here. Look at those!" he continued, pointing with a finger which visibly shook.
I looked. At the mouth of the gully, in a small space partly cleared of stones stood three broken shafts, raised on rude pedestals. "Well?" I said in a low voice. The sun which was near setting flushed the great peak above to the colour of blood; but the valley was growing grey and each moment more dreary. "Well, what of those?" I said. In spite of my peril and the excitement of the coming struggle I felt the chill of his fear. Never had I seen so grim, so desolate, so Godforsaken a place! Involuntarily I shivered.
"They were crosses," he muttered, in a voice little above a whisper, while his eyes roved this way and that in terror. "The Curé of Gabas blessed the place, and set them up. But next morning they were as you see them now. Come on, Monsieur, come on!" he continued, plucking at my arm. "It is not safe here after sunset. Pray God, Satan be not at home!"
He had completely forgotten in his panic that he had anything to fear from me. His gun dropped loosely across his saddle, his leg rubbed mine. I saw this, and I changed my plan of action. As our horses reached the stones I stooped, as if to encourage mine, and by a sudden clutch snatched the gun bodily from his hand; at the same time I backed my horse with all my strength. It was done in a moment! A second and I had him at the end of the gun, and my finger was on the trigger. Never was victory more easily gained.
He looked at me between rage and terror, his jaw fallen. "Are you mad?" he cried, his teeth chattering as he spoke. Even in this strait his eyes left me and wandered round in alarm.
"No, sane!" I retorted fiercely. "But I do not like this place any better than you do!" Which was true enough, if not quite true. "So, by your right, quick march!" I continued imperatively. "Turn your horse, my friend, or take the consequences."