“We were trapped, monsieur,” he whispered.

“Yes,” I agreed, “but we can talk of that later.  The question now is whether you can get to the top of the slope.  Lean on me and take your time.  There is not much danger.  Casimir and a second man are dead, two others are galloping in the direction of Le Blanc.  Now, are you ready?”

“I shall soon be all right.  There is no bone broken; it is my head that pains!”

His steps at first were very tottery, and he had need of support, but once we reached level ground he walked steadily.  We paused at Casimir’s body, and Jacques said thoughtfully, “He was a cunning rogue; he deceived me to the very end.  Poor fellow, I am sorry to see him like this, but he took his risks.  He thought to kill me and he is dead himself.”

I went over to the second of our assailants.  He had fallen forward on his face; his heart had ceased beating; he lay quite motionless.  He was beyond human aid, and we turned away quietly.  The dead must ever give place to the claims of the living.

Jacques, who was fast recovering from the blow on his head, now seemed capable of discussing the situation with me.  What was best to be done was the question in my mind.  We had but the one horse, which could not carry both of us, and Jacques was too weak to walk far.  It was plain that if we returned to Le Blanc he must ride, in spite of his objection.

But was it safe to return?  At any moment our two assailants might abandon the pursuit, and we were not equal to continuing the fight.  They were doubtless strong, sturdy ruffians, well armed, and experienced in the use of their weapons.  I should be on foot, and unable to count on Jacques for much assistance.

“I think,” I said, “we had better conceal ourselves until the morning; they will hardly dare to attack us in broad daylight.  Besides, we can hire a horse at one of the inns.”

“Why not stay here?” asked my companion.  “They may come back to see if their comrades are living; then we can pounce on them.”

Poor old Jacques!  He was as brave as a lion, and gave no thought to his weakness.

After a while I convinced him that my plan was the best, so we unfastened the horse, and, leaving the two bodies, walked slowly along the narrow road, and so to the hollow where I had already lain.

Having secured the horse so that he would not stray, I compelled my servant, much against his wish, to lie down in a sheltered nook, and covered him with my cloak, for the night was bitterly cold.

“A good sleep will clear your brain,” I remarked, “and you will need all your wits in the morning.”

Walking briskly to and fro in order to keep myself warm, I listened intently for the sound of hoofs.  Perhaps three hours had passed—­the time seemed an age—­when clambering softly from the gully and advancing to the roadside I stretched myself flat on the grass.  Two horsemen were approaching slowly, and their animals were jaded and leg-weary.