came nearer, and St. Georges sprang to his
feet and drew from the wet scabbard which had remained by his side
during his swim ashore, his sword.

"Wretch," he said, "put down that knife and come no nearer, or I will
run you through, woman though you seem to be! Begone, vulture!"

The robber of the dead and wounded paused and stared at him; then she
assumed a whining tone, and exclaimed in her northern accent:

"Oh, good gentleman, you mistake. I am no slayer of injured men, but a
comforter thereof. Will you not take a sup of good Nantz to ease you?"

"No, begone! Away. Yet stay. Where is the nearest village where I can
procure food? Answer me, quickly."

"A mile off, good gentleman; there is an auberge there. It is very
good. _I_ keep it."

"You!"

"Yes, I. Yes, an excellent inn. But," with a suspicious glance at him,
"why not go to the fort, good gentleman? The marshal is there and that
king who has been ruined by his own subjects to-day."

"I do not wish to go to the fort. I am not a soldier, but a
sailor--saved from one of the transports. Direct me."

"Ha!" she said, with a grunt. "You are not the first. There are many
like you who do not want to go to the fort. A many poltroons who are
deserting from the army, now defeat has come to France. Are you
deserting too, friend?"

"No. But I have nothing to do with the forts nor the army. Direct me,
I say."

"There is the road," the hag said, pointing to the north across the
sandhills. "Follow that a mile and you will come to my house. But,"
and she came a step nearer, "give me some money, or you will, perhaps,
be followed. The others have given me some. Give me a piece, and I
will be silent."

"Away, wretch!" St. Georges said. "If the soldiers come forth again
you will flee from them, not wait a moment. I do not fear you," and
pushing past her he made toward the road she had indicated, while she
stood there muttering curses after him. Then she returned to her work
of prowling among the dead and dying, and rifling their pockets.

He made his way among those dead and dying, most of whom were wounded
French seamen who had managed to get ashore only to fall down and
expire where they fell, and a few of whom were soldiers on land who
had been struck by the projectiles from the French vessels while
standing gazing at the sea fight. In all, there were lying about the
dunes some hundred men, who were in different states of approaching
death. One thing he noticed a