nock, and could not discern the remotest connection between the brave commandant's uneasiness and this sort of animal at the roadside.
Hulot's face soon cleared, however.
While he deplored the calamities that had befallen the Republic, he was glad at heart that he was to fight for her; he vowed gaily to himself that he would not be gulled by the Chouans, and that he would read this dark intriguing nature that they had done him the honor to send against him. Before making any decision he began to study the place in which his enemies wished to take him at a disadvantage. His thick black eyebrows contracted in a heavy frown as he saw from the middle of the road where he stood that their way lay through a sort of ravine, of no great depth it is true, but with woods on either side, and many footpaths through them. He spoke to his two comrades in a low and very uncertain voice:
"We are in a nice hornet's nest!"
"What is it that you are afraid of?"
"Afraid!" answered the commandant. "Yes, afraid. I have always been afraid of being shot like a dog at some bend in a wood, without so much as a 'Who goes there?'"
"Bah," chuckled Merle, "even a 'Who goes there?' is also a deception."
"We really are in danger then?" asked Gérard, as much amazed now at Hulot's coolness as he had been before at his brief spasm of fear.
"Hush!" said the commandant; "we are in the wolf's den; it is as dark as in an oven in there, and we must strike a light. It is lucky," he went on, "that we occupy the highest ground on this side." He added a vigorous epithet by way of ornament, and went on, "Perhaps I shall end by understanding it clearly enough down there."
The commandant beckoned the two officers, and they made a ring round Marche-à-Terre; the gars pretended to think that he was in the way, and got up promptly.
"Stop where you are, vagabond!" cried Hulot, giving him
