and
dragging himself along the pebbles.

"A deserter!" whispered Jorance. "No nonsense now!"

But Morestal pushed him away and began to run to where the two roads
crossed. At the very moment when he reached the spot, a man appeared,
all frenzied and out of breath, and stammered, in French:

"Save me!... I've been given away!... I'm frightened!..."

Morestal seized hold of him and flung him off the road:

"Run!... Look sharp!... Straight ahead of you!"

There was the report of a rifle. The man staggered, with a moan; but he
was evidently only wounded, for, after a few seconds, he drew himself
up and made off through the woods.

A chase ensued forthwith. Four or five Germans crossed the frontier and
set off in pursuit of the fugitive, swearing as they went, while their
comrades, forming the greater number, turned towards Morestal.

Jorance took him round the waist and compelled him to recoil:

"This way," he said, "over there.... They won't dare ..."

They returned in the direction of the Butte-aux-Loups, but were at once
caught up:

"Halt!" commanded a rough voice. "I arrest you.... You are
accomplices.... I arrest you."

"We are in France," retorted Jorance, facing his aggressors.

A hand fell on his shoulder:

"We'll see about that.... We'll see about that.... You're coming with
us."

The men surrounded them; but, vigorous both and exasperated, they
succeeded in fighting their way through with their fists:

"To the Butte-aux-Loups," said Jorance, "and keep to the left of the
road."

"We're not on the left," said Morestal, who saw, after a moment, that
they had branched off to the right.

They re-entered French territory; but the police who were pursuing the
deserter, having lost his tracks, now fell back in their direction.

Thereupon they made a bend to the right, hesitated for a moment, careful
not to cross the road, and then set off again; and, still tracked by the
men, whom they felt close upon their heels, they reached the acclivity
of the Butte-aux-Loups. At that moment, surrounded on all hands and
utterly blown, they had to stop to take breath.

"Arrest them!" said the leader of the men, in whom they recognized the
German commissary, Weisslicht. "Arrest them! We are in Germany."

"You lie!" roared Morestal, fighting with wild energy. "You have not the
right.... It's a dirty trap!"

It was a violent struggle, but did not last long. He received a blow on
the chin with the butt of a rifl