Antoine glanced hastily round; there was no chance of escape, a double ring enclosed him.  To accept or refuse seemed about equally risky; he ran a good chance of a thrashing whichever way he decided.  Although his heart beat loudly, no trace of emotion appeared on his pallid cheek; an unforeseen danger would have made him shriek, but he had had time to collect himself, time to shelter behind hypocrisy.  As soon as he could lie and cheat he recovered courage, and the instinct of cunning, once roused, prevailed over everything else.  Instead of answering this second challenge, he knelt down and said to Pierre—­

“You are much stronger than I am.”

This submission disarmed his antagonist.  “Get up,” he replied; “I won’t touch you, if you can’t defend yourself.

“Pierre,” continued Antoine, still on his knees, “I assure you, by God and the Holy Virgin, I was not going to tell.  I was going home to my cousins to learn my lessons for to-morrow; you know how slow I am.  If you think I have done you any harm, I ask your forgiveness.”

Pierre held out his hand and made him get up.

“Will you be a good fellow, Antoine, and play with us?”

“Yes, I will.”

“All right, then; let us forget all about it.”

“What are we to play at?” asked Antoine, taking off his coat.

“Thieves and archers,” cried one of the boys....

“Splendid!” said Pierre; and using his acknowledged authority, he divided them into two sides—­ten highwaymen, whom he was to command, and ten archers of the guard, who were to pursue them; Antoine was among the latter.

The highwaymen, armed with swords and guns obtained from the willows which grew along the brook, moved off first, and gained the valleys between the little hills beyond the wood.  The fight was to be serious, and any prisoner on either side was to be tried immediately.  The robbers divided into twos and threes, and hid themselves in the ravines.

A few minutes later the archers started in pursuit.  There were encounters, surprises, skirmishes; but whenever it came to close quarters, Pierre’s men, skilfully distributed, united on hearing his whistle, and the Army of justice had to retreat.  But there came a time when this magic signal was no longer heard, and the robbers became uneasy, and remained crouching in their hiding-places.  Pierre, over-daring, had undertaken to defend alone the entrance of a dangerous passage and to stop the whole hostile troop there.  Whilst he kept them engaged, half of his men, concealed on the left, were to come round the foot of the hill and make a rush on hearing his whistle; the other half, also stationed at some, little distance, were to execute the same manoeuvre from above.  The archers would be caught in a trap, and attacked both in front and rear, would be obliged to surrender at discretion.  Chance, which not unfrequently decides the fate of a battle, defeated