ffect of a thick wood.

The steepness of the declivity made it necessary for Orso to dismount.
He was walking quickly down the hill, which was slippery with ashes
(he had thrown the bridle on his horse's neck), and was hardly
five-and-twenty paces from one of these stone fences, when, just in
front of him, on the right-hand side of the road, he perceived first
of all the barrel of a gun, and then a head, rising over the top of the
wall. The gun was levelled, and he recognised Orlanduccio, just ready
to fire. Orso swiftly prepared for self-defence, and the two men, taking
deliberate aim, stared at each other for several seconds, with that
thrill of emotion which the bravest must feel when he knows he must
either deal death or endure it.

"Vile coward!" shouted Orso.

The words were hardly out of his mouth when he saw the flash of
Orlanduccio's gun, and almost at the same instant a second shot rang out
on his left from the other side of the path, fired by a man whom he had
not noticed, and who was aiming at him from behind another wall. Both
bullets struck him. The first, Orlanduccio's, passed through his left
arm, which Orso had turned toward him as he aimed. The second shot
struck him in the chest, and tore his coat, but coming in contact with
the blade of his dagger, it luckily flattened against it, and only
inflicted a trifling bruise. Orso's left arm fell helpless at his side,
and the barrel of his gun dropped for a moment, but he raised it at
once, and aiming his weapon with his right hand only, he fired at
Orlanduccio. His enemy's head, which was only exposed to the level of
the eyes, disappeared behind the wall. Then Orso, swinging round to the
left, fired the second barrel at a man in a cloud of smoke whom he could
hardly see. This face likewise disappeared. The four shots had followed
each other with incredible swiftness; no trained soldiers ever fired
their volleys in quicker succession. After Orso's last shot a great
silence fell. The smoke from his weapon rose slowly up into the sky.
There was not a movement, not the slightest sound from behind the wall.
But for the pain in his arm, he could have fancied the men on whom he
had just fired had been phantoms of his own imagination.

Fully expecting a second volley, Orso moved a few steps, to place
himself behind one of the burned trees that still stood upright in
the _maquis_. Thus sheltered, he put his gun between his knees,
and hurriedly reloaded it. Meanw