The Works of Guy de Maupassant, Volume III (of 8)

imself, and, under the pretext of examining t

d plain. The country people sell the wood; they send it down the ravines, which are called coulées, locally, and which lead down to the plain, and there they stack it into piles, which they sell thrice a year to

ered us not to stir, and only to come to him when we heard him blow his trumpet. It was made of a goat's horn, and could be heard a

strength. A whole mortal hour passed and he did not come, nothing moved in the brushwood. The captain's wife began to grow impatient; what could he be doing? Why did he not call us? Did the shot that we had heard proceed from an enemy,

en killed, and that the Prussians were blowing the trumpet to draw us into an ambush. We therefore returned to the cottage, keeping a careful look out, with our fingers on the trigger, and hiding under the branches, but his wife, in spite of our entreat

on! he is ali

g his pipe at the entrance of the village,

e sentry at the door, had not time to see me before I gave him a sugar plum in his stomach, and then, before the others could come out, I jumped on to the horse and was off like a shot. Eight or ten of them followed me, I think, but I took the cross-roads thr

ance of the main street, where the road from the level country enters the village, while the two others, the captai

, then three. The first was evidently a chassepot; one recognized it by the sharp report, w

d towards the village, and to join me when they had gone well between the houses. Then they were to appear suddenly, take the patrol betw

sure that he has managed to get a shot into himself somewhere or other, for we hear nothing of him. It serves him right; why did he not obey

r a prisoner? When night came, the captain proposed that we should go out and look for him, and so the three of us started. At the cross-roads we found a broken rifle and some blood, while the ground w

y cannot possibly have taken him prisoner, as he would have called out for help. I cannot understand it all." Just

e and then they will scuttle off without saying a word. They will be satisfied with having killed a man and setting fire to two houses

ck, if we could set Piédelot free

all that we saw of it was the reflection above the roof. However, we were walking rather slowly, as we were afraid of a trap, when suddenly we heard Piédelot's well-known voice. It had a strange sound, however, for it was at t

l, and in two bounds we were at the back of