Part 41 (1/2)

”Halt!”

M. Ulrich stooped, his hand on Jean's shoulder.

”Don't move,” he whispered quickly. ”I'll call them off, by turning towards the Minieres. As soon as they follow me, get up, run off, cross the road and then the little coppice--it's a straight line in front of you. Adieu.”

He rose up, took a few steps cautiously, and then made off quickly through the woods.

”_Halt! Halt!_”

A report rang out, and as the noise died away under the branches M.

Ulrich's voice, already some distance off, called:

”Missed.”

At the same moment Jean Oberle made a rush for the frontier. Head lowered, seeing nothing, his elbows squared, his chest lashed by the branches, he ran with all his might. He pa.s.sed within a few inches of a man lying in ambush. The branches were pushed aside, a whistle was blown, Jean redoubled his efforts. He reached the road unawares; another report rang out on the edge of the wood. Jean rolled over on the edge of the copse. Cries arose:

”Here he is! Here he is! Come.”

Jean jumped up instantly and dived into the wood. He thought he had stumbled over a rut. He leapt into the copse. But his legs shook under him. He felt with anguish a growing faintness overcoming him.

The cries of his pursuers rang in his ears, everything swam before his eyes. He came upon an open s.p.a.ce, felt the fresh wind on his face and lost consciousness.