l from a village in
the further valley, where the post-boy had been refreshing himself and
his horses. Simon stopped to scold him, then left his companion to keep
guard over him, and himself mounted again the precipitous bit of stony
lane which had once been the approach to the farm, and now opened on the
wild moor. He whistled shrilly as he came, and then called in a subdued
voice: "All right, men! Bring him down."

There was no answer. He quickened his pace, and coming up under the oaks
found the two fellows sitting on the ground rubbing their heads, staring
vacantly round with eyes before which all the moonshiny world was
swimming.

Simon swore at them furiously. "What has happened, you fools? Where's
Alexandre? Where is the prisoner? name of all that's--"

"Devil knows, I don't," said the fellow who had paid dear for his
good-humour. "That little gentleman is cleverer than you or me, Master
Simon, and stronger too. He knocked us down like ninepins. Where is he?
Nearly back at La Mariniere, I should think, and with Alexandre chasing
after him!"

"Not so far off as that, I suspect," said Simon. "Up with you. He is
hidden in this cover, and you have got to beat it till you find him. How
did you come to let him escape, pair of idiots? You are not fit for your
work."

He went back a few yards, while the men scrambled to their feet, and
whistled sharply for the one he had left in charge of the post-boy. Then
he lighted a lantern, and they pushed at various points into the wood.
The first discovery was that of Alexandre, lying senseless; they dragged
him into the road and left him there to come to himself. Then they
unearthed a wild boar, which rushed out furiously from the depths of the
bracken and charged at the light, then bolted off across the moor.
Smaller animals fled from them in all directions; large birds rustled
and cried, disturbed in the thick foliage of the oaks, impenetrable
masses of shade.

"If we were to shoot into the trees? He may be hidden in one of them."

The suggestion came from Angelot's friend, whose frivolity had given him
his chance, and whose anxiety to put himself on the right side by
catching him again, dead or alive, very nearly brought his young life to
a speedy end. For foolish Francois was wise this time, so wise, had he
only known it, that Angelot was sitting in the very tree he touched
with his hand as he spoke, a couple of yards above his head.

The boy had courage enough and