into my nostrils.
It came so quickly that I scarcely realized its significance until
Burns scrambled to his knees with a growl.

"God! the devils have run us to cover!" he cried, sullenly. "They have
started a fire to smoke us out!"

It hardly needed a moment to prove this true; the thin smoke grew more
and more dense, filling the narrow entrance until we lay gasping for
breath. De Croix, ever the most impulsive, was the first to act.

"_Parbleu_!" he gasped, pulling himself forward with his hands.
"Better Indians than this foul air! If I die, it shall at least be in
the open."

To remain longer cooped in that foul hole was indeed madness; and as
soon as I could I followed him, rolling out of the entrance to the
water's edge, fairly sick with the pressure upon my lungs, and caring
so little what the end might be, provided I might first attain one
breath of pure air, that before I gained strength to resist I was
prisoner to as ill-looking a crew of savages as ever my eyes
encountered. The villains triced us firmly with thongs of skin, and
sat us up against the bank like so many puppets, dancing about before
us, snapping their dirty fingers in our faces, and treating us to all
manner of taunts and insults. 'T was done so quickly as to seem a
dream, had I not smarted so sorely from the blows dealt me, and my
limbs chafed where the tight cords were drawn.

I recall glancing aside at Burns; but his seamed and puckered face
remained emotionless, as the red devils rolled him over till he stared
straight up at the sky, now gray with coming dawn. The sight of De
Croix almost set me laughing, which won for me a kick from the brute
who had me in special charge. The Frenchman was surely no court dandy
now; his fancy clothing clung to him in rags, while the powder-flash
within the cellar had blackened his face and made sad havoc with his
gay mustache. He endeavored to smile at me as our eyes met, but the
effort produced only what seemed like a demoniac grin.

"'T is a hard life, Monsieur," I could not forbear remarking, "and will
hardly remind you of Versailles."

His form stiffened in its bonds, as if the words spurred his memory of
other days.

"A French soldier smiles at fate, wherever it overtakes him," he
answered, a touch of pride in his voice. "Besides, the game is not
played out,--I may yet prove the first one in. But see! if I mistake
not, here comes the chief of all these devils."

The new-comer strod