y yourselves, my lads!"

This permission, which to Vendeans and Chouans, was equivalent to
sounding a charge, was scarcely given before the Chouans spread over the
fields to cries of "Vive le roi!" waving their hats with one hand and
their guns with the other.

Instead of keeping in rank like the Republicans, they scattered like
sharpshooters, forming an immense crescent, of which Georges and his
horse were the centre.

A moment later the Republicans were flanked and the firing began.
Cadoudal's men were nearly all poachers, that is to say, excellent
marksmen, armed with English carbines, able to carry twice the length of
the army musket. Though the first shots fired might have seemed wide of
range, these messengers of death nevertheless brought down several men
in the Republican ranks.

"Forward!" cried the general.

The soldiers marched on, bayonets fixed; but in a few moments there was
no enemy before them. Cadoudal's hundred men had turned skirmishers;
they had separated, and fifty men were harassing both of the enemy's
flanks. General Hatry ordered his men to wheel to the right and left.
Then came the order: "Fire!"

Two volleys followed with the precision and unanimity of well
disciplined troops; but they were almost without result, for the
Republicans were firing upon scattered men. Not so with the Chouans, who
fired on a mass; with them every shot told.

Roland saw the disadvantage of the position. He looked around and, amid
the smoke, distinguished Cadoudal, erect and motionless as an equestrian
statue. He understood that the royalist leader was waiting for him.

With a cry he spurred his horse toward him. As if to save him part of
the way, Cadoudal put his horse to a gallop. But a hundred feet from
Cadoudal he drew rein. "Attention!" he said to Branche-d'Or and his
companions.

"Don't be alarmed, general; here we are," said Branche-d'Or.

Cadoudal drew a pistol from his holster and cocked it. Roland, sabre in
hand, was charging, crouched on his horse's neck. When they were twenty
paces apart, Cadoudal slowly raised his hand in Roland's direction. At
ten paces he fired.

The horse Roland was riding had a white star on its forehead. The ball
struck the centre of that star, and the horse, mortally wounded, rolled
over with its rider at Cadoudal's feet.

Cadoudal put spurs to his own horse and jumped both horse and rider.

Branche-d'Or and his men were ready. They sprang, like a pack of
jaguars, u