wn, by the description. Keep a
lookout on your travels, master player. The King's Lieutenant in Rennes
has sent us word this morning that he will pay ten louis to any one
giving information that will lead to this scoundrel's arrest. So there's
ten louis to be earned by keeping your eyes open, and sending word to
the nearest justices. It would be a fine windfall for you, that."

"A fine windfall, indeed, captain," answered Andre-Louis, laughing.

But the sergeant had touched his horse with the spur, and was already
trotting off in the wake of his men. Andre-Louis continued to laugh,
quite silently, as he sometimes did when the humour of a jest was
peculiarly keen.

Then he turned slowly about, and came back towards Pantaloon and the
rest of the company, who were now all grouped together, at gaze.

Pantaloon advanced to meet him with both hands out-held. For a moment
Andre-Louis thought he was about to be embraced.

"We hail you our saviour!" the big man declaimed. "Already the shadow
of the gaol was creeping over us, chilling us to the very marrow. For
though we be poor, yet are we all honest folk and not one of us has ever
suffered the indignity of prison. Nor is there one of us would survive
it. But for you, my friend, it might have happened. What magic did you
work?"

"The magic that is to be worked in France with a King's portrait. The
French are a very loyal nation, as you will have observed. They love
their King--and his portrait even better than himself, especially when it
is wrought in gold. But even in silver it is respected. The sergeant
was so overcome by the sight of that noble visage--on a three-livre
piece--that his anger vanished, and he has gone his ways leaving us to
depart in peace."

"Ah, true! He said we must decamp. About it, my lads! Come, come..."

"But not until after breakfast," said Andre-Louis. "A half-hour for
breakfast was conceded us by that loyal fellow, so deeply was he
touched. True, he spoke of possible gardes-champetres. But he knows as
well as I do that they are not seriously to be feared, and that if
they came, again the King's portrait--wrought in copper this time--would
produce the same melting effect upon them. So, my dear M. Pantaloon,
break your fast at your ease. I can smell your cooking from here,
and from the smell I argue that there is no need to wish you a good
appetite."

"My friend, my saviour!" Pantaloon flung a great arm about the young
man's shoulders. "You s