ween
comrades. Your fagot-knife against my little flute that sings
pa-pa!--that leaves matters balanced, eh?"

The young ruffian had followed the Lizard and caught him by his
stained velvet coat.

"Voyons," he persisted, "do you think the commune is going to let a
comrade starve for lack of Badinguet's lozenges? Here, take a few of
these!" and the rascal thrust out a dirty palm full of twenty-franc
gold pieces.

"What are these for?" muttered the Lizard, sullenly.

"For your beaux yeux, imbecile!" cried Tric-Trac, gayly. "Come back
when you want more. My comrade, Citizen Buckhurst, will be glad to see
you next Monday. Adieu, my friend. Don't chatter to the Flics!"

He picked up his box and the packet of provisions, dropped his
revolver into the side-pocket of his jacket, cocked his greasy cap,
blew a kiss to the Lizard, and started off straight into the forest.
After a dozen steps he hesitated, turned, and looked back at the
poacher for a moment in silence. Then he made a friendly grimace.

"You are not a fool," he said, "so you won't follow me. Come again
Monday. It will really be worth while, dear friend." Then, as on an
impulse, he came all the way back, caught the Lizard by the sleeve,
raised his meagre body on tip-toe, and whispered.

The Lizard turned perfectly white; Tric-Trac trotted away into the
woods, hugging his box and smirking.

The Lizard and I walked back together. By the time we reached Paradise
bridge I understood him better, and he understood me. And when we
arrived at the circus tent, and when Speed came up, handing me a
telegram from Chanzy refusing my services, the Lizard turned to me
like an obedient hound to take my orders--now that I was not to
re-enter the Military Police.

I ordered him to disobey the orders from Lorient and from the mayor of
Paradise; to take to the woods as though to avoid the conscription; to
join Buckhurst's franc-company of ruffians, and to keep me fully
informed.

"And, Lizard," I said, "you may be caught and hanged for it by the
police, or stabbed by Tric-Trac."

"Bien," he said, coolly.

"But it is a brave thing you do; a soldierly thing!"

He was silent.

"It is for France," I said.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"And we'll catch this Tric-Trac red-handed," I suggested.

"Ah--yes!" His eyes glowed as though lighted up from behind. "And
another who is high in the police, and a friend of this Tric-Trac!"

"Was it that man's name he whispered to yo