a
few hours?"

Congo was examining his victim, and uttered an exclamation, at which
Maximilien paused, with a hand upon Floreal's shoulder.

"Is he dead?"

"The club was heavier than I thought," answered Congo.

"He brought it upon himself. Well, the prison at Jacmel is full of
colored people; this will leave room for one more--"

Maximilien's words suddenly failed him, his thoughts were abruptly
halted, for he found that in some unaccountable manner young Rameau's
hands had become free and that the machete at his own side was slipping
from its sheath. The phenomenon was unbelievable, it paralyzed
Maximilien's intellect during that momentary pause which is required to
reconcile the inconceivable with the imminent. It is doubtful if the
trooper fully realized what had befallen or that any danger threatened,
for his mind was sluggish, and under Rameau's swift hands his soul had
begun to tug at his body before his astonishment had disappeared. The
blade rasped out of its scabbard, whistled through its course, and
Maximilien lurched forward to his knees.

The sound of the blow, like that of an ax sunk into a rotten tree-trunk,
surprised Congo. A shout burst from him; he raised the stout cudgel
above his head, for Floreal was upon him like the blurred image out of a
nightmare. The trooper shrieked affrightedly as the blade sheared
through his shield and bit at his arm. He turned to flee, but his head
was round and bare, and it danced before the oncoming Floreal. Rameau
cleft it, as he had learned to open a green cocoanut, with one stroke.
On the hard earth, Maximilien was scratching and kicking as if to drag
himself out of the welter in which he lay.

Floreal cut down his father and received the limp figure in his arms. As
he straightened it he heard a furious commotion from the camp-fire where
the other tirailleurs were squatted. From the tail of his eye he saw
that they were reaching for their weapons. He heard Laguerre shouting in
the hut, then the crash of something overturned. As he rose from his
father's body he heard a shot and saw the soldiers of the Republic
charging him. They were between him and Pierrine. He hesitated, then
slipped back into the shadow of the tamarind-tree, and out at the other
side; his cotton garments flickered briefly through the moonlight, then
the thicket swallowed him. His pursuers paused and emptied their guns
blindly into the ink-black shadows where he had disappeared.

[Illustr