We went on along the cliffs to Beaumanoir to show ourselves to Aunt Jeanne, and ever and again the sound of the guns came to us on the wind, and more than once Uncle George stopped with his face turned that way, as though his thoughts were more there than here.

“Ah v’la!  So here you are, my little ones.  I hope you had a pleasant time in Jersey,” cried Aunt Jeanne, as soon as she caught sight of us.  “I have been risking my salvation by swearing through thick and thin that you went to Jersey on Tuesday.  But that young Torode only scoffed at me.  Bad manners to say the least of it, after eating one’s gache and drinking one’s cider, and nearly dancing holes in one’s floor.  I believe you’re hungry, you two;” and she made for her cupboards.

“No truly, auntie,” said Carette, “we have done nothing but eat and sleep since ever Uncle George shut us up in his hole.  But, mon Dieu, you cannot imagine how dark and still it is in there.  Each time we slept was a night, and each time we woke was a day, and we were there about three weeks.”

“Ma fe, you look it,” nodded Aunt Jeanne.

“And the father and Martin?” asked Carette.

“So so.  Give them time.  They have kept asking for you.”

Uncle George was standing looking over at Herm again, and something of what was in his face was in Aunt Jeanne’s, as she said to him—­

“Ma fe, yes!  But they are getting it hot over there.  If you take my advice, George Hamon, you will muster all the men you can and have them ready.”

“How then?” he said quickly.  “You think—?”

“I think what you are thinking, my friend.  If they are beaten over there—­and they will be, unless the Guernsey men are bigger fools than they used to be—­we may see some of them across here again and in a still worse temper.  If they make a bolt at the last, they’ll make for France, and ten to one they’ll take a bite at us in passing.  They came to stop trouble before, now they’ll come to make it.”

“It’s what was in my mind.  I’ll see Amice Le Couteur at once.”

“B’en! and give the word to all you see, George,” she called after him.  “And bid the women and children to the Gouliots if they hear they are coming—­the upper chamber above the black rock.  It won’t be just hide-and-seek this time.”

“Good idea!” Uncle George called back over his shoulder.

“Common sense,” said Aunt Jeanne.  “I’d undertake to hold the Gouliots against the lot of them if the tide was at flood.”

“And you really think they may come across here again, Aunt Jeanne?” I asked.

“Ma fe, yes, I do.  They were angry men before, but if the Guernsey men have smoked them out they’ll be simply devils, and it’s just as well to look ahead.  How is that arm of yours?”

“The other one’s all right.  I can do my share.”

“You’ll be wanted if they come.  I doubt if we can muster more than thirty men at most, and there may be more than that left of them, and madmen at that.”