the summit of the ridge.
On all sides were silence and desolation.

MON DIEU! And the ruffians on whose tender mercies I was to be thrown
might come to meet us! They might appear at any moment. In my despair
I loosened my hat on my head, and let the first gust carry it to the
ground, and then with an oath of annoyance tossed my feet from the
stirrups to go after it. But the rascal roared to me to keep my seat.

'Forward, Monsieur!' he shouted brutally. 'Go on!'

'But my hat!' I cried. 'MILLE TONNERRES, man! I must--'

'Forward, Monsieur, or I shoot!' he replied inexorably raising his gun.
'One--two--'

And I went on. But, ah, I was wrathful! That I, Gil de Berault, should
be outwitted, and led by the nose like a ringed bull, by this Gascon
lout! That I, whom all Paris knew and feared--if it did not love--the
terror of Zaton's, should come to my end in this dismal waste of snow
and rock, done to death by some pitiful smuggler or thief! It must not
be. Surely in the last resort I could give an account of one man, though
his belt were stuffed with pistols.

But how? Only, it seemed, by open force. My heart began to flutter as
I planned it; and then grew steady again. A hundred paces before us a
gully or ravine on the left ran up into the snow-field. Opposite its
mouth a jumble of stones and broken rocks covered the path, I marked
this for the place. The knave would need both his hands to hold up his
nag over the stones, and, if I turned on him suddenly enough, he might
either drop his gun or fire it harmlessly.

But, in the meantime, something happened; as, at the last moment, things
do happen. While we were still fifty yards short of the place, I found
his horse's nose creeping forward on a level with my crupper; and, still
advancing, still advancing, until I could see it out of the tail of my
eye, and my heart gave a great bound. He was coming abreast of me: he
was going to deliver himself into my hands! To cover my excitement, I
began to whistle.

'Hush!' he muttered fiercely, his voice sounding so strange and
unnatural, that my first thought was that he was ill; and I turned to
him. But he only said again,--

'Hush! Pass by here quietly, Monsieur.'

'Why?' I asked mutinously, curiosity getting the better of me. For had
I been wise I had taken no notice; every second his horse was coming up
with mine. Its nose was level with my stirrup already.

'Hush, man!' he said again. This time there was no mistake abo