PURSUED
I sank down on the rock beside him.
“We’re in for it now,” I said.
He raised his brows.
“To my way of thinking, Henri,” he replied, “we’re just out of it.” He
munched on his bread thoughtfully for a while. With a pleased expression
on his face he turned to me. “Isn’t it a grand thing to be in trouble?”
he asked.
“It’s all right if you have friends,” I returned. “Master scrivener,” I
went on, “do you realize that you have killed a man?”
“—and that’s a great pity, isn’t it,” he remarked dryly. He looked at me
carefully as though he was trying to read my thoughts. “Have you proof
of that, Henri?” he said.
“Who else would have done it?” I demanded.
“Why, if you put two and two together, it was the landlord who took the
dagger. You saw him with your own eyes. You know I fell fast asleep. I
was bound hard and fast. You couldn’t take an oath on it, now, could
you, Henri?”
“Well, no,” I replied. “But I’m sure of this, it was either you or the
landlord.”
He patted me on the arm.
“Now,” he said, “you are talking sense. As far as you are concerned it
was the landlord, for I wouldn’t like you to think you were traveling
with a murderer.”
“Was it you, really?” I asked.
“As far as the landlord goes, it was,” he said. “It all depends which
side of the fence you are on.”
He left me more puzzled than ever. I tried again but with the same
result. The same dry smile and the same cunning expression from those
knowing eyes greeted me at every turn.
“Well,” I said after we had finished our meal. “What are we to do now?”
“Play the fox,” he answered. “We must do the contrary to what they think
we’ll do.”
“They will think that we’ll keep on ahead to get out of the way,” I
replied. “Isn’t that natural?”
“It is,” he agreed. “You’re a gentleman of fine understanding.”
He lowered his head thoughtfully and gathered a few loose stones in his
hand. These he threw into the air and caught again as they came down. He
broke out into a soft whistle and stamped his foot to the tune. I got up
from my seat and stood before him waiting for a move.
“Are you going to loiter here till we’re caught, master scrivener?” I
asked.
“If we’re caught, there’s always a way out,” he remarked. “You have seen
already it’s a little knack I have.”
With that he arose slowly and brushed the crumbs from his clothes. He
took a last draught of water from the stream and gazed about.
“We’ll not go far,” he said at length. “We’ll keep in the neighborhood.
The worst of it is that we’ve no arms but your dagger.”
He went on ahead and I followed. Whatever his thoughts were I cannot
tell. But I know that mine were none of the lightest. I was beset with
dread. In my imagination I heard the confusion when the body of the
guard was found. I saw the consternation of the rest of them. I pictured
to myself the fury they were in. That they would not let us off
unpunished was all too clear. It was about two hours since I left the
inn. By this, no doubt, they were on foot and even in pursuit of us.
I soon felt a jar run through me. We had wandered straight along the
side of the hill in a line with the valley. Of a sudden we came to a
point of rock that stood jutting higher than the ground roundabouts.
There were no trees upon it, only the bare stone. When we reached the
summit the whole country spread on either hand like a rolling field. A
white line curled and circled in and around the wanderings of a little
stream that flowed slowly towards the south. It was the great highway
that leads down the valley of the Loire to the west of France. It was
the road that I would have been traveling in peace and comfort, if it
had not been for the interference of my enemies.
Of a sudden the sound of clattering hoofs came to my ears. Then there
shot into view two horsemen with bows and arrows slung over their
shoulders. From where I was I could even see the grim expression on
their faces and the foam dripping from their horses’s mouths.
I glanced anxiously at the scrivener.
“There they go,” he remarked.
“—after us?” I inquired.
He nodded his head.
“Don’t you feel the thrill of it?” he asked beaming in my face. “And
doesn’t it warm your blood to see them go flying past when we are
standing here at our ease?”
I had to laugh in spite of myself, but for all that the seriousness of
our situation tormented me. To live like a hunted animal was little to
my liking. The long and short of it was that the scrivener was used to
danger. I had my trials yet to come.
We had to keep on the move so we started back to wander under the
protection of the trees. We crossed the forest path at a right angle and
directed our steps towards the north. Here the woods grew thicker. The
ground was more and more covered with brush and knotted weeds and there
ran tiny streams down the hillside in and out among the rocks.
I came to a sudden stop and touched the scrivener on the arm.
“I hear a noise of some one walking,” I said. “A stone just clattered
against a rock.”
The scrivener raised his finger to silence me.
“I saw them when we were watching the horsemen ride past,” he said.
“It’s two fellows armed with bows and arrows. They are behind us.”
I asked no further questions. I knew that they were on our tracks. It
was a sign that our enemies were combing the country round in their
search and would leave no stone unturned till they found us.
The scrivener halted and pointed to a large tree.
“Hide there,” he explained. “That’s where they will pass. When they come
abreast of you, keep your eye open. Wait for an opportunity.”
With not another word he was off through the woods. I stood for a moment
in doubt. Then I walked quickly to the place he had pointed out and took
my position in the shelter of the tree. My heart was thumping like a
hammer. I laid my hand involuntarily on my dagger. I gave a pull at my
jerkin. I was now on one foot, now on the other. A nervousness came over
me that made me as uneasy as a young colt.
Presently the sound of voices came through the trees—deep rumbling
voices of men. Then the brush swished and here and there the noise of a
stone that one of them kicked with the toe of his heavy boot. I peered
out as cautiously as I could. They came into view a flash at a time from
among the thick trunks.
Then I summoned my will and took in a deep breath. The men were not ten
feet away muttering and talking and growling that they had been aroused
so untimely from their sleep. I saw their faces clearly and even the
color of their eyes.
[Illustration: They Came Into View From Among the Thick Trunks]
Suddenly they looked up and stopped as though they had been confronted
by a ghost. I sprang to the other side of my tree and peered out again.
To my amazement, the scrivener was standing directly before them. He was
swinging his cap low so that it swept the ground and he laid his hand
over his heart like a courtier. With a bow that might have shamed a
prince he said in a soft voice:
“Gentlemen, I am the highwayman of Tours. Are you looking for me?”
I knew it was my time to act. While the two fellows stood thus uncertain
trying to collect their wits, I leaped out. Before either of them could
stir, I had gathered my fist into a ball. I swung as hard as ever I
delivered a blow in my life. My bare knuckles struck the man nearest me
so violently that I felt the jar of it clear to my elbow. I caught him
behind the ear. He hung for a second as though he were suspended in the
air. Then, like a bag that is suddenly dropped, he sank unconscious to
the earth.
Before I could glance about the scrivener had straightened himself. With
one of his springs he came hurtling through the air. The fellow had half
turned when he saw his companion fall and was not entirely on his guard.
The scrivener’s heels struck him like a weight in the chest. As though
his legs were cut away from under him, he flew back and rolled over to
the foot of the tree.
“Quick!” cried my companion.
I needed no urging. As fast as my anxious fingers could manage, I undid
the fastenings that bound the quiver of arrows to my fellow’s shoulder.
Then I snatched up the bow and turned to see what the next move would
be.
The scrivener had done as I had done, only with more dispatch. He
stepped back and laid an arrow in the bow.
“Up with you!” he cried. “Back to your master, De Marsac, and say that
the highwayman of Tours sends him his compliments. Tell him that we
shall meet him further down the road on the way to Angers. Tell him to
keep a keen edge on his sword for when we meet again the one or the
other of us shall die!”
I never saw a man fly before an enemy so quickly. Before I could wink he
had turned and was soon hidden among the trees.
“That’s one of them,” muttered my companion. He pointed to the man whom
I had felled. He was rolling over and trying to raise himself on his
elbow. “He’s safe enough where he lies,” he continued. “By the time he
has his wits again, we shall be out of reach.”
“Where are we going now, master scrivener?” I asked.
“I’m not sure, my lad,” he said. He pointed to the sun which stood over
our heads. “First we’ll eat what is left of our breakfast. We’ll go
ahead slowly for a while. When it gets dark I shall make a quiet visit
to the inn.”