CHAPTER XII.

All was accomplished that Hullin had commanded: the defiles of the Zorne, and of the Sarre, were strongly defended; that of the Blanru, the extreme of the position, had been put in a state of defence by Jean-Claude himself and the three hundred men who formed his principal force.

It is thither, on the eastern acclivity of the Donon, two _kilometres'_ distance from Grandfontaine, that we must transport ourselves to await the coming of events.

Above the high road which intersects the mountain two-thirds of the way up, was at that time to be observed a farm surrounded by a few acres of cultivated land, the homestead of Pelsly, the Anabaptist, a large building with a flat roof such as was needed to avoid being carried away by the strong gusts of wind. The back part, extending in the direction of the mountain top, was appropriated to the stables and pigsties.

The confederates were encamped all around. At their feet lay Grandfontaine and Framont, confined within a narrow gorge; farther off, at the turning of the valley, Schirmeck, and its old pile of feudal ruins; and in the greatest distance of all, the Bruche disappearing in zig-zag in the vapourish mists of Alsace. To their left rose the barren summit of the Donon, thickly strewn with rocks and some stubbly firs; while before them was the snow-covered road, with huge trees unstripped of their branches thrown across it. The melting snow suffered the yellow pasture land to appear from time to time; at others it formed large waves tossed to and fro by the fierce north wind.

The prospect was at once awful and sublime. Not a pedestrian, not a vehicle appeared on the road which winds through the valley till it gradually disappears in the distance: the whole place seemed like a desert.

The few fires scattered round about the farm, sending their puffs of dense smoke up to the sky, alone indicated the position of the camp. The mountaineers seated round the fires over which their food was cooking, their broad-brimmed hats pushed back on their heads, their guns slung on their shoulders, were quite sad and desponding: for three days they had been on the look-out.

In one of these groups, with crossed legs, rounded back, and pipe in mouth, were old Materne and his two sons.

From time to time Louise would appear at the door of the farm, then re-enter very quickly and set to work again. A large cock, scratching on the dunghill, was crowing with a hoarse voice; two or three fowls were strutting up and down among the bushes. All this was pleasant to behold; but what chiefly rejoiced the volunteers was to contemplate the magnificent sides of bacon, of a beautiful red and white, so temptingly blended, hanging before the fire on spits of green wood, and yielding their luscious fat drop by drop on the embers, and to go and fill their drinking-cups at a little barrel of brandy placed on Catherine Lefevre's cart.

About eight o'clock in the morning, a man suddenly made his appearance between the Great and Little Donon; the sentinels immediately observed him; he descended the pathway, waving his hat. In a few minutes they recognised Nickel Bentz, the old forest ranger of the Houpe.

The whole camp was astir; some one ran to inform Hullin, who had been sleeping for an hour in the homestead on a large mattrass, side by side with Doctor Lorquin and his dog Pluto.

They all three came out, accompanied by the old shepherd, Lagarmitte, whom they had named the trumpeter, and the Anabaptist Pelsly, a grave and sedate man, his arms plunged to the elbows in his tunic of hodden grey with brass hooks, a broad fringe of beard encircling his massive jaws, and the tassel of his cotton cap hanging halfway down his back.

Jean-Claude appeared delighted. "Well, Nickel, what's going on down below there?" he exclaimed.

"So far nothing new Master Jean-Claude; only on the Phalsbourg side there is a rumbling like a storm. Labarbe says it is cannon, for all night long flashes like lightning were seen passing over the forest of Hilde-house, and since this morning grey clouds have hung over the plain."

"The town is attacked," said Hullin; "but what news from Lutzelstein?"

"Nothing," replied Bentz.

"Then that is because the enemy will attempt to turn the place. In any case, the Allies are in the neighbourhood. There must be a terrible number of them in Alsace."

Then turning towards Materne, who was standing behind, "We cannot remain any longer in uncertainty," said he; "you must depart with your two sons to reconnoitre."

The old huntsman's countenance brightened.

"All right! I shall be able then to stretch my legs a little," said he, "and try to bring down one of those Cossacks."

"One moment, old boy. You have nothing to do with bringing down anyone; all you have to do is to keep a look-out and see what is going on. Frantz and Kasper can remain armed; but for you, I know you, and you must leave your carbine here, as well as your powder-flask and hunting-knife."

"What for?"

"Why, because you will have to go into the villages, and if you were taken armed, you would be shot on the spot."

"Shot?"

"Not a doubt of it. We are not regular troops; they do not take us prisoners, they shoot us. So you will proceed on your way to Schirmeck, with a stick in your hand, and your sons will accompany you and keep at a distance under shelter of the hedges, and within gun-shot. If any marauders attack you, they will come to your assistance, but if it is a column or a squadron, they will let you be taken."

"They will let me be taken!" indignantly exclaimed the old huntsman; "I should like to see that."

"Yes, Materne; and it will be the best way, for an unarmed man they will let go; an armed man they will shoot."

"Ah! I see, I see. Yes, yes, that's not a bad thought; I never thought to part from my carbine, Jean-Claude, but in war time we must obey orders; there, there is my gun, and my flask, and my knife. Who will lend me his blouse and stick?"

Nickel Bentz handed him his blue smock-frock and felt hat.

When they had changed clothes, any one might have taken the old huntsman, in spite of his thick, gray moustaches, for a simple peasant of the mountains.

His two boys, quite proud of belonging to this first expedition, examined the priming of their carbines, each with its bayonet used for hunting the wild boar straight and long as a sword. They felt the edge of their hunting-knives, threw their game-bags across their shoulders, and assured themselves that everything was in good order, casting flashing looks around them.

"Ha, ha!" said Doctor Lorquin, with a smile, "don't forget the advice of Master Jean-Claude. Prudence! A German more or less among a hundred thousand would not make much difference, whilst if either of you came back to us out of marching order, we should find it difficult to replace you."

"Oh! fear nothing, doctor; we shall keep our eyes open."

"My boys," replied Materne, formally, "are true hunters: they know how to wait, and take advantage of the right moment. They will not fire unless I call."

"Good luck to you!" shouted Hullin after them, as they ascended the snowy sides of the mountain, to avoid the felled trees. After a quarter of an hour's walking, they turned round by the fir forest, and were out of sight.

Then Hullin quietly returned to the farm, talking as he went with Nickel Bentz.

Doctor Lorquin walked behind, closely followed by Pluto, and all the others went back to their places around the camp-fires.