lost their way, and I've
given them free lodgings in the cellar."

She told the story of how she had alarmed them by firing the revolver,
and had shut them up in the cellar.

The man, still serious, asked:

"But what am I to do with them at this time of night?"

"Go and fetch Monsieur Lavigne with his men," she replied. "He'll take
them prisoners. He'll be delighted."

Her father smiled.

"So he will-delighted."

"Here's some soup for you," said his daughter. "Eat it quick, and then
be off."

The old keeper sat down at the table, and began to eat his soup, having
first filled two plates and put them on the floor for the dogs.

The Prussians, hearing voices, were silent.

Long-legs set off a quarter of an hour later, and Berthine, with her
head between her hands, waited.

The prisoners began to make themselves heard again. They shouted,
called, and beat furiously with the butts of their muskets against the
rigid trap-door of the cellar.

Then they fired shots through the vent-hole, hoping, no doubt, to be
heard by any German detachment which chanced to be passing that way.

The forester's daughter did not stir, but the noise irritated and
unnerved her. Blind anger rose in her heart against the prisoners; she
would have been only too glad to kill them all, and so silence them.

Then, as her impatience grew, she watched the clock, counting the
minutes as they passed.

Her father had been gone an hour and a half. He must have reached
the town by now. She conjured up a vision of him telling the story to
Monsieur Lavigne, who grew pale with emotion, and rang for his servant
to bring him his arms and uniform. She fancied she could bear the
drum as it sounded the call to arms. Frightened faces appeared at the
windows. The citizen-soldiers emerged from their houses half dressed,
out of breath, buckling on their belts, and hurrying to the commandant's
house.

Then the troop of soldiers, with Long-legs at its head, set forth
through the night and the snow toward the forest.

She looked at the clock. "They may be here in an hour."

A nervous impatience possessed her. The minutes seemed interminable.
Would the time never come?

At last the clock marked the moment she had fixed on for their arrival.
And she opened the door to listen for their approach. She perceived a
shadowy form creeping toward the house. She was afraid, and cried out.
But it was her father.

"They have sent me," he said, "to see if ther