"Why not stay here?" asked my companion. "They may come back to see if their comrades are living; then we can pounce on them."
Poor old Jacques! He was as brave as a lion, and gave no thought to his weakness.
After a while I convinced him that my plan was the best, so we unfastened the horse, and, leaving the two bodies, walked slowly along the narrow road, and so to the hollow where I had already lain.
Having secured the horse so that he would not stray, I compelled my servant, much against his wish, to lie down in a sheltered nook, and covered him with my cloak, for the night was bitterly cold.
"A good sleep will clear your brain," I remarked, "and you will need all your wits in the morning."
Walking briskly to and fro in order to keep myself warm, I listened intently for the sound of hoofs. Perhaps three hours had passed—the time seemed an age—when clambering softly from the gully and advancing to the roadside I stretched myself flat on the grass. Two horsemen were approaching slowly, and their animals were jaded and leg-weary.
They came close to me at a walking pace; I could dimly distinguish their figures as they leaned forward; they were level with me, one so close that I could have shot him dead with my eyes shut; but it was horrible to think of slaying a fellow creature in cold blood, and I let them pass. Slowly and painfully they proceeded until at length they reached the narrow road.
Returning to the hollow I wakened Jacques, and, telling him of the two ruffians' return, advised that we should proceed.
"Very good, monsieur," he said at once, "I am at your service."