ling over blocks of fallen stone, and
every once and again coming upon the bodies of fallen Brandenburgers,
Henri and Jules at length reached a part where the gallery broadened
out, and where the sound of combat was louder. In the distance they
could see moving figures and the flash of rifles, while every few
seconds there was a dull thud or a curious scuttling noise on the walls
of the gallery as bullets flew by them. Then, as they drew nearer, the
faint light shed by another torch showed them a number of Bretons
sheltering behind an opening which led on eastward, while others lay
full length on the floor, their packs in front of them to protect them.
A glance into the room on the left--a store-room, no doubt, in which
shells had been piled in other days--disclosed a number of wounded
Frenchmen in the care of members of their ambulance corps, while,
almost opposite, was another room packed with Bretons waiting to
reinforce their friends when called for. Yet there was no sign of the
German.

"Strange!" thought Henri. "Then where can he have gone? Surely he has
not slipped from the fort elsewhere?"

"Hist! I thought I saw some fellow moving along there at the top of
that flight of stairs," Jules said suddenly, pointing to the right just
behind the room occupied by the Bretons in reserve, where stone steps
led upward to another corridor, which itself gave entrance to another
row of gun-chambers.

Darting to the foot of the stairway, Henri and Jules began to climb it
cautiously and as noiselessly as possible; not that they had much to
fear from noise, for, what with the shouts of the combatants and the
sharp crack of rifles, rendered all the louder by the containing walls
and masonry, there was little chance of their footsteps being heard.
Then, too, there were the voices of those French reserves, those
gallant and gay-hearted little Bretons of the 20th Corps, assembled in
that room to their right, waiting till their comrades had cleared the
way before them, or until a shrill whistle should call them to dash to
the attack. The last peep which Henri had obtained of them had shown
those very cheerful and collected individuals seated on the floor
smoking heavily, chatting and laughing uproariously, as if, indeed,
they were gathered miles away from the conflict, and as if fighting,
and bullets, and sudden death were things of no consequence whatever.

"Hist!" Jules gripped his friend's arm again and pointed.

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