culty up the bank, and went deliberately along the top of it. Suddenly he felt how largely his own experience conduced to the safety of his detachment, and he came down again. His face grew darker, for leaders in those days were wont to regret that they could not reserve the most dangerous missions for themselves alone. The other officers and the men noticed their leader's preoccupied mood. They liked him. The courage of his character was recognized among them; so they knew that this exceeding caution on his part meant that danger was at hand. How serious it was they could not possibly suspect; so, though they remained motionless and scarcely drew their breath, it was done intuitively. The soldiers looked by turns along the valley of the Couësnon, at the woods along the road, and at their commandant's stern face, trying to gather what their fate was to be, much as the dogs try to guess what the experienced sportsman means who gives them some order which they cannot understand. They looked at each other's eyes, and a smile spread from mouth to mouth.
As Hulot made his peculiar grimace, Beau-Pied, a young sergeant, who was regarded as the wit of the company, said in a low voice:
"What the devil have we run ourselves into to make that old dragoon of a Hulot turn such a muddy face on us? He looks like a whole council of war."
Hulot flung a stern glance at Beau-Pied, and forthwith there was a sudden accession of the silence required of men under arms. In the middle of this awful pause the lagging footsteps of the conscripts were heard. The gravel under their feet gave out a dull monotonous sound that added a vague disagreeable feeling to the general anxiety, an indescribable feeling that can only be understood by those who, in the silence of night, have been victims of a terrible suspense, and have felt their hearts beat heavily with redoubled quickness at some monotonous recurring noise which has seemed to pour terror through them drop by drop. The commandant reached the middle of the road again. He was
