e, having obeyed
Hulot's orders, returned to his side.

"We did well, captain," said the commandant, "to put the few men whose
patriotism we can count upon among those conscripts at the rear. Take
a dozen more of our own bravest fellows, with sub-lieutenant Lebrun at
their head, and make a rear-guard of them; they'll support the patriots
who are there already, and help to shove on that flock of birds and
close up the distance between us. I'll wait for you."

The captain disappeared. The commander's eye singled out four men on
whose intelligence and quickness he knew he might rely, and he beckoned
to them, silently, with the well-known friendly gesture of moving the
right forefinger rapidly and repeatedly toward the nose. They came to
him.

"You served with me under Hoche," he said, "when we brought to reason
those brigands who call themselves 'Chasseurs du Roi'; you know how they
hid themselves to swoop down on the Blues."

At this commendation of their intelligence the four soldiers nodded
with significant grins. Their heroically martial faces wore that look
of careless resignation to fate which evidenced the fact that since the
struggle had begun between France and Europe, the ideas of the private
soldiers had never passed beyond the cartridge-boxes on their backs or
the bayonets in front of them. With their lips drawn together like a
purse when the strings are tightened, they looked at their commander
attentively with inquiring eyes.

"You know," continued Hulot, who possessed the art of speaking
picturesquely as soldier to soldiers, "that it won't do for old hares
like us to be caught napping by the Chouans,--of whom there are plenty
all round us, or my name's not Hulot. You four are to march in advance
and beat up both sides of this road. The detachment will hang fire here.
Keep your eyes about you; don't get picked off; and bring me news of
what you find--quick!"

So saying he waved his hand towards the suspected heights along the
road. The four men, by way of thanks raised the backs of their hands to
their battered old three-cornered hats, discolored by rain and ragged
with age, and bent their bodies double. One of them, named Larose, a
corporal well-known to Hulot, remarked as he clicked his musket: "We'll
play 'em a tune on the clarinet, commander."

They started, two to right and two to left of the road; and it was not
without some excitement that their comrades watched them disappear. The
commandant