bout the events of
Elanchovi--since neither had ever mentioned that name in hearing of the
other.

All these things Pepe narrated in turn, but briefly as the circumstances
required. The rest of his history Fabian already knew--at least, the
greater part of it; Bois-Rose had partially made the revelation.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

THE MAN IN THE YELLOW JACKET.

Bois-Rose, as already stated, had gone alone in a direction opposite to
that taken by his comrades. His mind full of the danger with which
Fabian was surrounded--Fabian restored to him as if by a miracle--the
Canadian continued to advance with rapid strides. He examined every
opening and aisle of the forest with an eye keenly bent, and an ear
straining to catch the slightest sound.

After making a distance of a hundred yards or so, he stopped in his
tracks, and laying himself flat along the grass, placed his ear to the
ground and listened attentively. In a few seconds' time a dull sound
reached him--the hoof-strokes of a horse that seemed to approach the
spot where he lay.

"Pepe is right," muttered he to himself, as he started to his feet; "the
skunk is coming this way. Good! he has the advantage of me in being
mounted; but I have a rifle that I dare say will make up for the
difference--_enfant de grace_! he is here!"

As this exclamation escaped him, the trapper was seen suddenly to raise
his long rifle to his shoulder. At the same instant a leathern jacket
of yellowish colour appeared at some distance off among the leaves, and
at about the height of a man on horseback.

The sharp crack of a rifle was instantly followed by the disappearance
of the leathern jacket: and, since for marksmen like Bois-Rose to take
aim is to hit, the latter had no doubt that his enemy had fallen to the
ground either dead or wounded. For a moment he thought of reloading;
but the ardour of his vengeance urged him to rush forward and make sure
of his victim. In the event that the assassin should have companions,
the trapper trusted to his great strength to equalise the chances of a
hand-to-hand conflict. Neglecting all further precautions, therefore,
like the hunter rushing upon the wounded stag, he dashed forward through
the trees toward the spot where his enemy had fallen.

As he drew near, he could perceive a horse rearing furiously in front of
him, crushing the underwood as he plunged violently from side to side.
The horse was saddled and bridled, but there was