pale in turn.

"With Biscarrat at their head, mounted upon my gray horse," continued
Aramis.

The hounds at the same moment rushed into the grotto like an avalanche,
and the depths of the cavern were filled with their deafening cries.

"Ah! the devil!" said Aramis, resuming all his coolness at the sight of
this certain, inevitable danger. "I am perfectly satisfied we are lost,
but we have, at least, one chance left. If the guards who follow their
hounds happen to discover there is an issue to the grotto, there is no
help for us, for on entering they must see both ourselves and our boat.
The dogs must not go out of the cavern. Their masters must not enter."

"That is clear," said Porthos.

"You understand," added Aramis, with the rapid precision of command;
"there are six dogs that will be forced to stop at the great stone under
which the fox has glided--but at the too narrow opening of which they
must be themselves stopped and killed."

The Bretons sprang forward, knife in hand. In a few minutes there was a
lamentable concert of angry barks and mortal howls--and then, silence.

"That's well!" said Aramis, coolly, "now for the masters!"

"What is to be done with them?" said Porthos.

"Wait their arrival, conceal ourselves, and kill them."

"_Kill them!_" replied Porthos.

"There are sixteen," said Aramis, "at least, at present."

"And well armed," added Porthos, with a smile of consolation.

"It will last about ten minutes," said Aramis. "To work!"

And with a resolute air he took up a musket, and placed a hunting-knife
between his teeth.

"Yves, Goenne, and his son," continued Aramis, "will pass the muskets to
us. You, Porthos, will fire when they are close. We shall have brought
down, at the lowest computation, eight, before the others are aware of
anything--that is certain; then all, there are five of us, will dispatch
the other eight, knife in hand."

"And poor Biscarrat?" said Porthos.

Aramis reflected a moment--"Biscarrat first," replied he, coolly. "He
knows us."

Chapter XLVIII. The Grotto.

In spite of the sort of divination which was the remarkable side of
the character of Aramis, the event, subject to the risks of things over
which uncertainty presides, did not fall out exactly as the bishop of
Vannes had foreseen. Biscarrat, better mounted than his companions,
arrived first at the opening of the grotto, and comprehended that
fox and hounds were one and all engulfed in it. Only, st