You say you shall
meet Toussaint. I will ride with you till you meet him, if you will.
Our people all know him and me."
"Do so, Henri. Do not wait to look for another horse. Jump up behind
me. Mine is a strong beast, and will make no difficulty, even of your
weight. Never mind your apron. Keep it for a flag of truce, in case we
meet the enemy."
They were off, and presently emerged from the comparative darkness of
the streets into the light of the fires. None of the three spoke,
except to urge on the horses up the steep, sandy road, which first
presented an ascent from the town, and then a descent to the plain,
before it assumed the level which it then preserved to the foot of the
opposite mountains, nearly fifty miles off. No one appeared on the
road; and the horsemen had, therefore, leisure to cast glances behind
them, as they were slowly carried up the ascent. The alarm-bell was now
sending its sullen sounds of dismay far and wide in the air, whose
stillness was becoming more and more disturbed by the draughts of the
spreading fires, as the canes caught, like torches, up the slopes to the
right. Pale twinkling lights, sprinkled over the cape and the
harbour-lights which looked like glow-worm tapers amidst the fiery
atmosphere, showed that every one was awake and stirring in the town,
and on board the ships; while an occasional rocket, mounting in the
smoky air, from either the Barracks or Government-House, showed that it
was the intention of the authorities to intimate to the inhabitants of
the remoter districts of the plain that the Government was on the alert,
and providing for the public safety.
On surmounting the ridge, Henri stretched out his hand, and pulled the
bridle of Monsieur Bayou's horse to the left, so as to turn it into a
narrow, green track which here parted from the road.
"What now, sir?" cried Papalier, in a tone of suspicion, checking his
horse, instead of following.
"You may, perhaps, meet two thousand devils, if you keep the high road
to the plain," answered Henri, quietly. To Monsieur Bayou he explained
that Toussaint would probably choose this road, through Madame Oge's
plantation.
"Come on, Papalier; do not lose time. All is right enough," said Bayou.
"The grass-tracks are the safest to-night, depend upon it."
Papalier followed, in discontented silence. In a few moments, Henri
again pulled the bridle--a decided check this time--stopping the horse.
"Voices," he whi
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