gan. A single hoot answered him; then a man slid down from the
branches of a bushy oak. It was the sentinel who guarded the entrance
to the grotto, which was not more than thirty feet from the oak. The
position of the trees surrounding it made it almost impossible of
detection.

The sentinel exchanged a few whispered words with Montbar, who seemed,
by fulfilling the duties of leader, desirous of leaving Morgan entirely
to his thoughts. Then, as his watch was probably not over, the bandit
climbed the oak again, and was soon so completely blended with the body
of the tree that those he had left might have looked for him in vain in
that aerial bastion.

The glade became narrower as they neared the entrance to the grotto.
Montbar reached it first, and from a hiding-place known to him he took a
flint, a steel, some tinder, matches, and a torch. The sparks flew, the
tinder caught fire, the match cast a quivering bluish flame, to which
succeeded the crackling, resinous flames of the torch.

Three or four paths were then visible. Montbar took one without
hesitation. The path sank, winding into the earth, and turned back upon
itself, as if the young men were retracing their steps underground,
along the path that had brought them. It was evident that they were
following the windings of an ancient quarry, probably the one from which
were built, nineteen hundred years earlier, the three Roman towns which
are now mere villages, and Caesar's camp which overlooked them.

At intervals this subterraneous path was cut entirely across by a deep
ditch, impassable except with the aid of a plank, that could, with
a kick, be precipitated into the hollow beneath. Also, from place to
place, breastworks could still be seen, behind which men could intrench
themselves and fire without exposing their persons to the sight or
fire of the enemy. Finally, at five hundred yards from the entrance, a
barricade of the height of a man presented a final obstacle to those who
sought to enter a circular space in which ten or a dozen men were now
seated or lying around, some reading, others playing cards.

Neither the readers nor the players moved at the noise made by the
new-comers, or at the gleam of their light playing upon the walls of
the quarry, so certain were they that none but friends could reach this
spot, guarded as it was.

For the rest, the scene of this encampment was extremely picturesque;
wax candles were burning in profusion (the Companio