The old man had been oppressed with fear, lest what he went through was a phantasm of the brain, and lest he should wake to the hideous reality of a living entombment. The swash of the cold water over his foot, up his calf, above his knee, was the first thing that roused him to the certainty that he was really free. Without difficulty and danger the little party crossed the river; they ascended the flanks of the great plateau and passed at once into oak woods. Thence, after a while, they emerged upon a bald track, where there was hardly any soil at all, and the whole region seemed to be struck with perpetual hoar-frost. The hoe, even the foot turned up chalk-flakes. Nothing could grow on so barren a surface. The moon rose and made the waste look colder, deader than under the starlight. Suddenly shouts were heard, and at the same moment before the little party rushed an old grey wolf. As he passed he turned to them with a snarl that showed his fangs gleaming as ivory in the moonlight. He did not stop--he fled precipitately; and next moment from out of a dell rushed a troop of men armed with pikes, pitchforks, and cudgels, attended by a legion of farm-dogs yelping vigorously. The little party drew up. The moon gleamed on the morions and the steel plates sewn on the buff jerkins, and black to westward on the white causse[8] lay the shadows of horses and men. [8] The Causse, from Calx, is the chalk or limestone plateau. A portion of those pursuing the wolf halted. "Haro! Haro!" shouted one man. "Here are human wolves, the worst of all! Let us kill them before we run the other down." In the clear moonlight they had seen the crosses of the _routiers_ on the arms of the two men sent from Domme. In a moment the party was surrounded, and the two freebooters to protect themselves drew their swords. Jean pushed forward. "My friends, do you not know me? We are the Del' Peyras, and my father is but just released from bondage. I am taking him home." "We will not hurt you, Messire Jean," said a peasant. "But these fellows with you--they are beasts of prey. They have killed our men. Stand aside, that we may knock them off their horses and then beat out their brains." "You shall not do this." "Why not? They are brigands, and not fit to live." "They are under my protection." The peasants were ill satisfied; having felt their power they had become impatient of all restraint on it. "Look here," said Jean, "my honour and my father's are engaged for these men. Do not force us to draw our swords on their behalf." "How do you know but that they will fall on you?" "They dare not," answered Jean. "I would trust a wolf rather than one of these. Come on!" The last address was to his fellows. Then those who had halted turned and ran in the track of such as were pursuing the wolf.