"We must have yon height, boys. The men of Dagsberg shall never be called braver than those of the Sarre. Forward!"
The troops dashed on, and Hullin, still pale from the effects of his anger, shouted after:
"Give them the steel!"
The tall smuggler, on his huge and strong steed, turned his head, and a laugh broke from his lips. He shook his sword expressively, and the troops disappeared in the wood.
At the same moment the Austrians, with their two guns—eight-pounders—reached the level top, while the Framont column still pressed up the slope. Everything was as before the battle, save that now the mountaineers were between two fires.
They saw the two guns with their rammers and caissons distinctly. A tall, lean officer, with broad shoulders and long, flaxen mustaches, commanded. In the clear mountain air they seemed almost within reach, but Hullin and Materne knew better; they were a good six hundred yards away, further than any rifle could carry.
Nevertheless, the old hunter wished to return to the abatis with a clear conscience. He advanced as near as possible to the ravine, followed by his son Kasper and a few partisans, and, steadying his piece against a tree, slowly covered the tall officer with the light mustaches.
All held their breath lest the aim might be disturbed.
The report rang out, but when Materne placed the butt of his rifle again on the ground, to see the effect of his shot, all was as before.
"It is strange how age affects the sight," said he.