I
decided to abandon all thought of stalking up and down the road with
such an implement on my shoulder. That kind of glory was not worth the
morrow's ache, so I deposited the antiquated weapon in the hallway of
the school house and resolved to rely on my Browning.
Afterwards I came out and seating myself on the bench with my back
against the wall, waited for something to happen. My dogs seemed to
have comprehended the gravity of my mission, and crouched close to my
feet, cocking their ears at the slightest sound.
Little by little the great harvest moon climbed high behind our old
Roman church, perched on the embankment opposite, bathing everything in
molten silver, and causing the tall pine-trees in the little cemetery
adjacent to cast long black shadows on the road. Down towards the
Marne, the frogs were croaking merrily somewhere in the distance a night
locust buzzed, and alarmed by the striking of midnight the owls who
nested in the belfry, fluttered out into the night and settling on the
church top, began their plaintive hooting. Still no one passed.
Such calm reigned that it was almost impossible to believe that over
there, beyond those distant hills, battle and slaughter were probably
raging.
Presently a shiver warned me that I had been seated long enough; so,
marking a hundred steps, I began to pace slowly up and down, watching
the ever-changing firmament. The first gray streaks of dawn were
beginning to lighten the east when a growl from Tiger made me face about
very abruptly. I must admit that my heart began beating abnormally, and
the hand in my pocket gripped my revolver as though it were a live
animal and likely to escape.
A second later all the dogs repeated the growl, and then I could hear
the clicking of a pair of sabots on the road. The noise approached, and
my guardians looked towards me, every muscle in their bodies straining,
waiting for the single word, "_Apporte!_"
"_Couchez!_" I hissed, and awaited developments.
The footsteps drew nearer and nearer, and in a moment the stooping
figure of an old peasant came over the brow of the hill. The gait was
too familiar to be mistaken. But what on earth was father Poupard doing
on the highroad at that hour?
When he was within speaking distance I came out from the shadow of the
wall and put the question. If he had suddenly been confronted with a
spook I do not think the old man could have been more astonished. He
stopped dead sti
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