'The Smiler' you have still to see."

There was such fury in his eyes and in the grin of his white teeth that
I could no longer doubt his truth, with that clotted and oozing back to
corroborate his words.

"I have ten men sworn to stand by me," said he. "In a few days I hope
to join your army, when I have done my work here. In the meanwhile--" A
strange change came over his face, and he suddenly slung his musket to
the front: "Hold up your hands, you French hound!" he yelled. "Up with
them, or I blow your head of!"

You start, my friends! You stare! Think, then, how I stared and started
at this sudden ending of our talk.

There was the black muzzle and there the dark, angry eyes behind it.
What could I do? I was helpless. I raised my hands in the air. At the
same moment voices sounded from all parts of the wood, there were crying
and calling and rushing of many feet. A swarm of dreadful figures
broke through the green bushes, a dozen hands seized me, and I, poor,
luckless, frenzied I, was a prisoner once more. Thank God, there was
no pistol which I could have plucked from my belt and snapped at my own
head. Had I been armed at that moment I should not be sitting here in
this cafe and telling you these old-world tales.

With grimy, hairy hands clutching me on every side I was led along the
pathway through the wood, the villain de Pombal giving directions to my
Captors. Four of the brigands carried up the dead body of Duplessis.

The shadows of evening were already falling when we cleared the forest
and came out upon the mountain-side.

Up this I was driven until we reached the headquarters of the guerillas,
which lay in a cleft close to the summit of the mountain. There was the
beacon which had cost me so much, a square stack of wood, immediately
above our heads. Below were two or three huts which had belonged, no
doubt, to goatherds, and which were now used to shelter these rascals.
Into one of these I was cast, bound and helpless, and the dead body of
my poor comrade was laid beside me.

I was lying there with the one thought still consuming me, how to wait a
few hours and to get at that pile of fagots above my head, when the door
of my prison opened and a man entered. Had my hands been free I should
have flown at his throat, for it was none other than de Pombal. A couple
of brigands were at his heels, but he ordered them back and closed the
door behind him.

"You villain!" said I.

"Hush!" he cried. "Speak