“You’re to follow, Flambeau, and you’re not to be afraid. You must follow,” she whispered. Then she jumped up on to the window sill, turned, and grasped the ledge of the roof as Jean had done. She heard the swish of the tree as he caught the branches, but she dared not look around. She did not dare to think of the woman Paulette, and she tried, for the moment, not to think of Flambeau, but that was not so easy, for there was an appealing squeal from the window sill. Then horrors! A sharp bark! Marie Josephine called softly, “Flambeau, come!” She held on to the ledge and looked back, and, to her joy, saw the dog put his slender feet on to the trough and gingerly step forward. “Come, Flambeau, good doggie, pet, come!” she called again softly. Then she turned, caught at the branches, held them with every bit of strength in her body, swayed with them, dipping down through their leafy sweetness, loosening her hold the instant her feet touched the ground. She swayed and staggered, half fell over, but was up in an instant, and with Jean looked upward at Flambeau. He had reached the edge of the trough, and was looking down. Soon they saw that he had spied what they had not seen, a broad, thick branch some four feet below the trough. He leaped down, scrambled among the smaller branches for a moment, then jumped safely to the ground and ran with bounds after the two friends who seemed to scarcely touch their feet to the earth as they sped down the road, away from the forest, the old mill-inn, and the dark woman, Paulette! They often wondered afterward how they had ever run so fast after their night of travel. Fear seemed to race behind them, and they were sure they heard the woman running and calling, but they never looked back to see. At last they could not run any longer. They came to a crossroad and sat down near the edge of the road, panting and exhausted. There was no one in sight and they rested for some little time before they could talk at all. Then Jean said, “There must be quicksilver in your feet, Jo,” and they both laughed. Jean laughed the most, throwing back his head and shouting. He was so tired and excited that he could not seem to stop. “You look so awful, Jo. You are so untidy and dirty and ugly,” he said. “It’s good that I do look just this way, for no one will know me. Poor Flambeau, see how tired he is. If only he hadn’t come. But wasn’t he wonderful there at the inn?” There was the sound of wheels coming the other way, and they looked up and saw that a coach was approaching. Flambeau ran toward it, and as he came up to it, started to bark. The driver of the coach stopped and looked at him, and then at Marie Josephine and Jean. “You both look fagged out. If you’re going my way I’ll give you a lift,” he said. They came up to the side of the coach, and as they stood there it seemed as though everything went round and round before Marie Josephine’s eyes.