"Up with them, or I blow your head
of!"
You start, my friends! You stare! Think, then, how I stared and
started at this sudden ending of our talk.
There was the black muzzle and there the dark, angry eyes behind
it. What could I do? I was helpless. I raised my hands in the
air. At the same moment voices sounded from all parts of the
wood, there were crying and calling and rushing of many feet. A
swarm of dreadful figures broke through the green bushes, a dozen
hands seized me, and I, poor, luckless, frenzied I, was a
prisoner once more. Thank God, there was no pistol which I could
have plucked from my belt and snapped at my own head. Had I been
armed at that moment I should not be sitting here in this cafe
and telling you these old-world tales.
With grimy, hairy hands clutching me on every side I was led
along the pathway through the wood, the villain de Pombal giving
directions to my Captors. Four of the brigands carried up the
dead body of Duplessis.
The shadows of evening were already falling when we cleared the
forest and came out upon the mountain-side.
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