! and have the Prussians down on
them, who had given notice that death would be the penalty for killing a
horse, fearing that the carcass would breed a pestilence. They must wait
until it was dark. And that was the reason why the four men were lurking
in the ditch, waiting, with glistening, hungry eyes fixed on the dying
brute.

"Corporal," asked Pache, in a voice that faltered a little, "you have
lots of ideas in your head; couldn't you kill him painlessly?"

Jean refused the cruel task with a gesture of disgust. What, kill that
poor beast that was even then in its death agony! oh, no, no! His first
impulse had been to fly and take Maurice with him, that neither of
them might be concerned in the revolting butchery; but looking at his
companion and beholding him so pale and faint, he reproached himself for
such an excess of sensibility. What were animals created for after all,
_mon Dieu_, unless to afford sustenance to man! They could not allow
themselves to starve when there was food within reach. And it rejoiced
him to see Maurice cheer up a little at the prospect of eating; he said
in his easy, good-natured way:

"Faith, you're wrong there; I've no ideas in my head, and if he has got
to be killed without pain--"

"Oh! that's all one to me," interrupted Lapoulle. "I'll show you."

The two newcomers seated themselves in the ditch and joined the others
in their expectancy. Now and again one of the men would rise and make
certain that the horse was still there, its neck outstretched to catch
the cool exhalations of the Meuse and the last rays of the setting sun,
as if bidding farewell to life. And when at last twilight crept slowly
o'er the scene the six men were erect upon their feet, impatient that
night was so tardy in its coming, casting furtive, frightened looks
about them to see they were not observed.

"Ah, _zut_!" exclaimed Chouteau, "the time is come!"

Objects were still discernible in the fields by the uncertain,
mysterious light "between dog and wolf," and Lapoulle went forward
first, followed by the five others. He had taken from the ditch a large,
rounded boulder, and, with it in his two brawny hands, rushing upon the
horse, commenced to batter at his skull as with a club. At the second
blow, however, the horse, stung by the pain, attempted to get on his
feet. Chouteau and Loubet had thrown themselves across his legs and were
endeavoring to hold him down, shouting to the others to help them.
The poo