e with
its cavalry saddle-cloth would excite suspicion. It was one of the
conditions of success that his presence at Bourg should remain unknown.

He could hide at the Chateau des Noires-Fontaines and keep on the watch,
but could he trust the servants? Michel and Jacques would hold their
tongues, Roland was sure of them; but Charlotte, the jailer's daughter,
she might gossip. However, it was three o'clock in the morning, every
one was asleep, and the safest plan was certainly to put himself in
communication with Michel. Michel would find some way of concealing his
presence.

To the deep regret of his horse, who had no doubt scented a stable,
Roland wheeled about and rode off in the direction of Pont-d'Ain. As he
passed the church of Brou he glanced at the barrack of the gendarmes,
where, in all probability, they and their captain were sleeping the
sleep of the righteous.

Roland cut through the little strip of forest which jutted into the
road. The snow deadened the sound of his horse's hoofs. Branching into
the road from the other side, he saw two men slinking along in the
ditch, carrying a deer slung by its forelegs to a sapling. He thought he
recognized the cut of the two men, and he spurred his horse to overtake
them. The men were on the watch; they turned, saw the rider, who was
evidently making for them, flung the animal into the ditch, and made for
the shelter of the forest of Seillon.

"Hey, Michel!" cried Roland, more and more convinced that he had to do
with his own gardener.

Michel stopped short; the other man kept on his way across the fields.

"Hey, Jacques!" shouted Roland.

The other man stopped. If they were recognized, it was useless to fly;
besides, there was nothing hostile in the call; the voice was friendly,
rather than threatening.

"Bless me!" said Jacques, "it sounds like M. Roland."

"I do believe it is he," said Michel.

And the two men, instead of continuing their flight, returned to the
highroad.

Roland had not heard what the two poachers had said, but he had guessed.

"Hey, the deuce! of course it is I," he shouted.

A minute more and Michel and Jacques were beside him. The questions
of father and son were a crossfire, and it must be owned they had good
reason for amazement. Roland, in civilian's dress, on a cavalry horse,
at three in the morning, on the road from Bourg to the chateau! The
young officer cut short all questions.

"Silence, poachers!" said he, "put that dee