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Chapter 49 - Page 2
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He was obeyed with an alacrity that showed that every one appreciated the danger. The little company drew together in the darkness.
Montbar, who knew the windings of the subterranean passage almost as well as Morgan, directed the troop, and, followed by his companions, he plunged into the heart of the quarry. Suddenly, as he neared the gate of the passage, he fancied he heard an order given in a low tone not fifty feet away, then a sound like the cocking of guns. He stretched out both arms and muttered in a low voice:
"Halt!" At the same instant came the command, this time perfectly audible: "Fire!"
It was hardly given before the cavern was lighted with a glare, followed by a frightful volley. Ten carbines had been discharged at once into the narrow passage. By their light Montbar and his companions recognized the uniform of the gendarmes.
"Fire!" cried Montbar in turn.
Seven or eight shots answered the command. Again the darkness was illuminated. Two of the Companions of Jehu lay upon the ground, one killed outright, the other mortally wounded.
"Our retreat is cut off, my friends," cried Montbar. "To the right-about! If we have a chance, it is through the forest."
The movement was executed with the precision of a military manoeuvre. Montbar, again at the head of his companions, retraced his steps. At that moment the gendarmes fired again. But no one replied. Those who had discharged their guns reloaded them. Those who had not, reserved their fire for the real struggle which was to come. One or two sighs alone told that the last volley of the gendarmes had not been without result.
At the end of five minutes Montbar stopped. The little party had reached the open space of the quarry.
"Are your pistols and guns all loaded?" he asked.
"Yes," answered a dozen voices.
"Remember the order for those who fall into the hands of the police. We belong to the army of M. de Teyssonnet, and we are here to recruit men for the royalist cause. If they talk to us of mail-coaches and diligences, we don't know what they mean."
"Agreed."
"In either case it will be death. We know that well enough; but the death of a soldier is better than that of thieves--the volley of a platoon rather than the guillotine."
"Yes, yes," cried a mocking voice, "we know what that is--Vive la fusillade!"
"Forward, friends!" said Montbar, "and let us sell our lives for what they are worth; that is to say, as dearly as possible."
"Forward!" they all cried.
Then, as rapidly as was possible in the profound darkness,
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