It was then that the gallant conduct of the old wood-cutter Rochart was observable, knocking over, as he did, more than ten "kaiserlichs," whom he took by the shoulder and hurled down the incline. Old Materne's bayonet was red with blood; and little Riffi never ceased loading his musket and firing into the mass of Germans with great spirit. Joseph Larnette, who unluckily received a bullet in his eye; Hans Baumgarten, who had his shoulder smashed; Daniel Spitz, who lost two fingers by a sabre-cut, and many others, whose names should be honored and revered for ages--all these never once left off firing and reloading their guns. Below the slope fearful cries were heard, while above nothing but bristling bayonets and men on horseback were to be seen. This lasted a good quarter of an hour. No one knew what the Germans would do, since there was no passage; when they suddenly decided on going away. Most of the students had fallen, and the others--old campaigners used to honorable retreats--no longer fought with the same steadiness. At first they retreated slowly, then more quickly. Their officers struck them from behind with the flat end of their swords; the musketry-fire pursued them; and, finally, they ran away with as much precipitation as they had been orderly in advancing. Materne, and fifty others, rose upon the barricades, the old hunter brandishing his carbine, and bursting into hearty roars of laughter. At the foot of the bank were heaps of wounded dragging themselves along the ground. The trodden-down snow was red with blood. In the midst of the piles of dead were two young officers, still alive, but unable to disengage themselves from their dead horses. It was horrible! But men are, in fact, savages: there was not one among the mountaineers who pitied those poor wretches; but, on the contrary, they seemed to rejoice at the sight. Little Riffi, transported with a noble enthusiasm, just then glided out along the bank. To the left, underneath the breastworks, he had caught sight of. a superb horse, which had belonged to the colonel killed by Materne, and had retired unhurt into his nook. "Thou shalt be mine," said he to himself. "Sapience will be astonished!" All the others envied him. He seized the horse by the bridle and sprang upon him; but judge of the general stupefaction, and of Riffi's in particular, when this noble animal began to shape his course toward the Germans in full gallop. The little tailor lifted his hands to heaven, imploring God and all the saints. Materne would have liked much to fire; but he dared not, the horse went so fast. At last Riffi disappeared amid the bayonets of the enemy. Everybody thought he had been killed. However, an hour later, he was to be seen passing along the main street of Grandfontaine, his hands tied behind him, and Corporal Knout at his back, bearing his emblem of office.