t once struggled to its feet, and
stood trembling in the road.

It was impossible for any one but the sufferer to take such an adventure
seriously. Two of the gendarmes were convulsed with laughter; it was
only Simon whose native cleverness and keen sense of his own advantage
kept his face grave and sympathising, as he handed the General his hat
and the other objects which his tumble had sent flying. The Prefect was
smiling as he asked anxiously whether any bones were broken. Angelot
trembled with hardly restrained laughter. It had seized him with an
overpowering force, when he saw the General's fat figure rise in the air
with a most undignified jerk, then being deposited in the thicket with a
fine pair of riding boots and shining spurs uppermost. This was so
exactly the accident that suited the man's swaggering airs of
superiority, Angelot felt that he could almost forgive him his insolent
words and looks, could almost bear the incomprehensible language of five
minutes ago, the threatened stroke with the whip--ah, by the by, here
lay the precious whip, with its silver handle, safely deposited in the
bushes out of the cows' way. Angelot magnanimously picked it up and
presented it to the General with a bow. He grunted a word meant for
thanks, but the eyes that met Angelot's flashed with a dark fury that
startled the careless boy and came back to his mind afterwards.

"Whose beasts were those?" the General asked hoarsely.

"They were my father's beasts, monsieur," Angelot answered. "They did
not realize, unfortunately--" He broke off under a warning look from the
Prefect, who went on with the sentence for him--"No one would regret
such a tiresome accident more than your father, I am sure."

"I was going to say so," Angelot murmured softly. "Now if they had been
my uncle's cattle--"

The General turned his back and mounted his horse. "The owner does not
signify," he growled. "He cannot be punished. But it was either
foolishness or malice that brought us along such a road."

"Come, come, General, that was my fault, after all!" the Prefect said
pleasantly. "And you must acknowledge that our young friend did his best
to save you. We all knew this country and its ways better than you
did--it is a pity, but there is no more to be said."

The General seemed to be of the same opinion, for he rode off without a
word. Angelot, looking after him, thought that one of these days there
might be a good deal more to be said.

Bu