As he spoke the old soldier threw himself flat on his belly and crawled slowly backward to the verge of the precipice. The spirit was strong, but the flesh shuddered. To march upon a battery had always been a mere pastime to the worthy corporal; but to face an unknown peril, to suspend one’s life upon a cord, was a different matter. Great drops of perspiration, caused by the horror of his situation, stood out upon his brow when he felt that half his body had passed the edge of the precipice, and that the slightest movement would now launch him into space. He made this movement, murmuring: “If there is a God who watches over honest people let Him open His eyes this instant!” The God of the just was watching. Bavois arrived at the end of his dangerous journey with torn and bleeding hands, but safe. He fell like a mass of rock; and the rudeness of the shock drew from him a groan resembling the roar of an infuriated beast. For more than a minute he lay there upon the ground stunned and dizzy. When he rose two men seized him roughly. “Ah, no foolishness,” he said quickly. “It is I, Bavois.” This did not cause them to relax their hold. “How does it happen,” demanded one, in a threatening tone, “that Baron d’Escorval falls and you succeed in making the descent in safety a few moments later?” The old soldier was too shrewd not to understand the whole import of this insulting question. The sorrow and indignation aroused within him gave him strength to free himself from the hands of his captors. “_Mille tonnerres_!” he exclaimed; “so I pass for a traitor, do I! No, it is impossible--listen to me.” Then rapidly, but with surprising clearness, he related all the details of his escape, his despair, his perilous situation, and the almost insurmountable obstacles which he had overcome. To hear was to believe. The men--they were, of course, the retired army officers who had been waiting for the baron--offered the honest corporal their hands, sincerely sorry that they had wounded the feelings of a man who was so worthy of their respect and gratitude. “You will forgive us, Corporal,” they said, sadly. “Misery renders men suspicious and unjust, and we are very unhappy.” “No offence,” he growled. “If I had trusted poor Monsieur d’Escorval, he would be alive now.” “The baron still breathes,” said one of the officers. This was such astounding news that Bavois was utterly confounded for a moment. “Ah! I will give my right hand, if necessary, to save him!” he exclaimed, at last. “If it is possible to save him, he will be saved, my friend. That worthy priest whom you see there, is an excellent physician. He is examining Monsieur d’Escorval’s wounds now. It was by his order that we procured and lighted this candle, which may bring our enemies upon us at any moment; but this is not a time for hesitation.” Bavois looked with all his eyes, but from where he was standing he could discover only a confused group of moving figures.