Hulot with his two officers followed the troop slowly, hoping to get safely to Ernee where the wounded could be cared for.The fight we have just described, which was almost forgotten in the midst of the greater events which were soon to occur, was called by the name of the mountain on which it took place.It obtained some notice at the West, where the inhabitants, observant of this second uprising, noticed on this occasion a great change in the manner in which the Chouans now made war.In earlier days they would never have attacked so large a detachment.According to Hulot the young royalist whom he had seen was undoubtedly the Gars, the new general sent to France by the princes, who, following the example of the other royalist chiefs, concealed his real name and title under one of those pseudonyms called "noms de guerre." This circumstance made the commandant quite as uneasy after his melancholy victory as he had been before it while expecting the attack.He turned several times to consider the table-land of La Pelerine which he was leaving behind him, across which he could still hear faintly at intervals the drums of the National Guard descending into the valley of Couesnon at the same time that the Blues were descending into that of La Pelerine.
"Can either of you," he said to his two friends, "guess the motives of that attack of the Chouans? To them, fighting is a matter of business, and I can't see what they expected to gain by this attack.They have lost at least a hundred men, and we"--he added, screwing up his right cheek and winking by way of a smile, "have lost only sixty.God's thunder! I don't understand that sort of speculation.The scoundrels needn't have attacked us; we might just as well have been allowed to pass like letters through the post--No, I don't see what good it has done them to bullet-hole our men," he added, with a sad shake of his head toward the carts."Perhaps they only intended to say good-day to us.""But they carried off our recruits, commander," said Merle.
"The recruits could have skipped like frogs into the woods at any time, and we should never have gone after them, especially if those fellows had fired a single volley," returned Hulot."No, no, there's something behind all this." Again he turned and looked at La Pelerine.
"See!" he cried; "see there!"
Though they were now at a long distance from the fatal plateau, they could easily distinguish Marche-a-Terre and several Chouans who were again occupying it.
"Double-quick, march!" cried Hulot to his men, "open your compasses and trot the steeds faster than that! Are your legs frozen?"These words drove the little troop into a rapid motion.
"There's a mystery, and it's hard to make out," continued Hulot, speaking to his friends."God grant it isn't explained by muskets at Ernee.I'm very much afraid that we shall find the road to Mayenne cut off by the king's men."*****
The strategical problem which troubled the commandant was causing quite as much uneasiness to the persons whom he had just seen on the summit of Mont Pelerine.As soon as the drums of the National Guard were out of hearing and Marche-a-Terre had seen the Blues at the foot of the declivity, he gave the owl's cry joyously, and the Chouans reappeared, but their numbers were less.Some were no doubt busy in taking care of the wounded in the little village of La Pelerine, situated on the side of the mountain which looks toward the valley of Couesnon.Two or three chiefs of what were called the "Chasseurs du Roi" clustered about Marche-a-Terre.A few feet apart sat the young noble called The Gars, on a granite rock, absorbed in thoughts excited by the difficulties of his enterprise, which now began to show themselves.Marche-a-Terre screened his forehead with his hand from the rays of the sun, and looked gloomily at the road by which the Blues were crossing the valley of La Pelerine.His small black eyes could see what was happening on the hill-slopes on the other side of the valley.
"The Blues will intercept the messenger," said the angry voice of one of the leaders who stood near him.
"By Saint Anne of Auray!" exclaimed another."Why did you make us fight? Was it to save your own skin from the Blues?"Marche-a-Terre darted a venomous look at his questioner and struck the ground with his heavy carbine.
"Am I your leader?" he asked.Then after a pause he added, pointing to the remains of Hulot's detachment, "If you had all fought as I did, not one of those Blues would have escaped, and the coach could have got here safely.""They'd never have thought of escorting it or holding it back if we had let them go by without a fight.No, you wanted to save your precious skin and get out of their hands--He has bled us for the sake of his own snout," continued the orator, "and made us lose twenty thousand francs in good coin.""Snout yourself!" cried Marche-a-Terre, retreating three steps and aiming at his aggressor."It isn't that you hate the Blues, but you love the gold.Die without confession and be damned, for you haven't taken the sacrament for a year."This insult so incensed the Chouan that he turned pale and a low growl came from his chest as he aimed in turn at Marche-a-Terre.The young chief sprang between them and struck their weapons from their hands with the barrel of his own carbine; then he demanded an explanation of the dispute, for the conversation had been carried on in the Breton dialect, an idiom with which he was not familiar.
