y as was possible in the profound darkness, the little
troop resumed its march, still under the guidance of Montbar. As they
advanced, the leader noticed a smell of smoke which alarmed him. At the
same time gleams of light began to flicker on the granite walls at the
angles of the path, showing that something strange was happening at the
opening of the grotto.

"I believe those scoundrels are smoking us out," exclaimed Montbar.

"I fear so," replied Adler.

"They think we are foxes."

"Oh!" replied the same voice, "they shall know by our claws that we are
lions."

The smoke became thicker and thicker, the light more and more vivid.

They turned the last corner. A pile of dried wood had been lighted in
the quarry about fifty feet from the entrance, not for the smoke, but
for the light it gave. By the blaze of that savage flame the weapons of
the dragoons could be seen gleaming at the entrance of the grotto.

Ten steps in advance of the men stood an officer, waiting. He was
leaning on his carbine, not only exposed to attack, but apparently
courting it. It was Roland. He was easily recognized. He had flung his
cap away, his head was bare, and the fitful light of the flames played
upon his features. But that which should have cost him his life saved
him. Montbar recognized him and stepped backward.

"Roland de Montrevel!" he said. "Remember Morgan's injunction."

"Yes," replied the other Companions, in muffled tones.

"And now," said Montbar, "let us die, but dearly!"

And he sprang forward into the space illuminated by the fire, and
discharged one barrel of his gun at the dragoons, who replied with a
volley.

It would be impossible to relate all that followed. The grotto was
filled with smoke, which the flame of each weapon pierced like a flash
of lightning. The two bands clinched and fought hand to hand, pistols
and daggers serving them in turn. At the noise of the struggle, the
gendarmes poured in from the rear--few more demons added to this fight
of devils--but the groups of friends and enemies were so confused they
dared not fire. They struggled in the red and lurid atmosphere, fell
down and rose again; a roar of rage was heard, then a cry of agony--the
death sigh of a man. The survivor sought another man, and the struggle
was renewed.

This work of death lasted fifteen minutes, perhaps twenty. At the end
of those twenty minutes twenty corpses could be counted in the grotto of
Ceyzeriat. Thirteen were t