oad, while half the others followed them
slowly to occupy the summit, where nothing could be seen of them by the
Blues but their bold heads. There they made a rampart of the trees and
pointed the muzzles of their guns on the Republicans, who were rapidly
reformed under reiterated orders from Hulot and turned to face the
remainder of the Chouans, who were still before them in the road. The
latter retreated slowly, disputing the ground and wheeling so as to
bring themselves under cover of their comrades' fire. When they reached
the broad ditch which bordered the road, they scaled the high bank
on the other side, braving the fire of the Republicans, which was
sufficiently well-directed to fill the ditch with dead bodies. The
Chouans already on the summit answered with a fire that was no less
deadly. At that moment the National Guard of Fougeres reached the scene
of action at a quick step, and its mere presence put an end to the
affair. The Guard and some of the soldiers crossed the road and began to
enter the woods, but the commandant called to them in his martial voice,
"Do you want to be annihilated over there?"

The victory remained to the Republicans, though not without heavy loss.
All the battered old hats were hung on the points of the bayonets and
the muskets held aloft, while the soldiers shouted with one voice: "Vive
la Republique!" Even the wounded, sitting by the roadside, shared in the
general enthusiasm; and Hulot, pressing Gerard's hand, exclaimed:--

"Ha, ha! those are what I call _veterans_!"

Merle was directed to bury the dead in a ravine; while another party of
men attended to the removal of the wounded. The carts and horses of
the neighborhood were put into requisition, and the suffering men were
carefully laid on the clothing of the dead. Before the little column
started, the National Guard of Fougeres turned over to Hulot a Chouan,
dangerously wounded, whom they had captured at the foot of the slope up
which his comrades had escaped, and where he had fallen from weakness.

"Thanks for your help, citizens," said the commandant. "God's thunder!
if it hadn't been for you, we should have had a pretty bad quarter of an
hour. Take care of yourselves; the war has begun. Adieu, friends." Then,
turning to the prisoner, he asked, "What's the name of your general?"

"The Gars."

"Who? Marche-a-Terre?"

"No, the Gars."

"Where does the Gars come from?"

To this question the prisoner, whose face was conv