An instinctive feeling of danger rose at the same moment to the hearts of the young officers; and each, obeying the same impulse, unfastened one of the large horn buttons of his blanket coat, and thrust his right hand into the opening.
“Francois, recollect your oath,” hastily aspirated the elder, as he grasped the hand of their conductor rather in supplication than in threat; “if there be aught to harm us here, your own life will most assuredly pay the forfeit of your faith.”
“It is noting but a womans,” calmly returned the Canadian; “it is my Babette who is sorry at my loss. But I shall come and tell you directly.”
He then stole gently round the corner of the hut, leaving his anxious companions in the rear of the little building, and completely veiled in the obscurity produced by the mingling shadows of the hut itself, and a few tall pear trees that overhung the paling of the orchard at some yards from the spot on which they stood.
They waited some minutes to hear the result of the Canadian’s admittance into his dwelling; but although each with suppressed breathing sought to catch those sounds of welcome with which a daughter might be supposed to greet a parent so unexpectedly restored, they listened in vain. At length, however, while the ears of both were on the rack to drink in the tones of a human voice, a faint scream floated on the hushed air, and all again was still.
“Good!” whispered the elder of the officers; “that scream is sweeter to my ear than the softest accents of woman’s love. It is evident the ordinary tones of speech cannot find their way to us here from the front of the hut. The faintness of yon cry, which was unquestionably that of a female, is a convincing proof of it.”
“Hist!” urged his companion, in the same almost inaudible whisper, “what sound was that?”
Both again listened attentively, when the noise was repeated. It came from the orchard, and resembled the sound produced by the faint crash of rotten sticks and leaves under the cautious but unavoidably rending tread of a human foot. At intervals it ceased, as if the person treading, alarmed at his own noise, was apprehensive of betraying his approach; and then recommenced, only to be checked in the same manner. Finally it ceased altogether.
For upwards of five minutes the young men continued to listen for a renewal of the sound, but nothing was now audible, save the short and fitful gusts of a rising wind among the trees of the orchard.
“It must have been some wild animal in search of its prey,” again whispered the younger officer; “had it been a man, we should have heard him leap the paling before this.”
“By Heaven, we are betrayed,—here he is,” quickly rejoined the other, in the same low tone. “Keep close to the hut, and stand behind me. If my dagger fail, you must try your own. But fire not, on your life, unless there be more than two, for the report of a pistol will be the destruction of ourselves and all that are dear to us.”