"You see it was not without a motive that your farmer cut our saddle-girths. Let us be off, my poor baron." "But if we leave the horse here those who search for us will know the riders are not far off." "Stop!" said Petit-Pierre; "I have an idea, an Italian idea!--the races of the _barberi_. Yes, that's the very thing. Do as I do, Monsieur Michel." "Go on; I obey." Petit-Pierre set to work. With her delicate hands, and at the risk of lacerating them, she broke off branches of thorn and holly from the neighboring hedge. Michel did the same, and they presently had two thick and prickly bundles of short sticks. "What's to be done with them?" asked Michel. "Tear the name off your handkerchief and give me the rest." Michel obeyed. Petit-Pierre tore the handkerchief into two strips and tied up the bunches. Then she fastened one to the mane, the other to the tail of the horse. The poor animal, feeling the thorns like spurs upon his flesh, began to rear and plunge. The young baron now began to understand. "Take off his bridle," said Petit-Pierre, "or he may break his neck; and let him go." The horse was hardly relieved of the saddle that held him before he snorted, shook his mane and tail angrily, and darted away like a tornado, leaving a trail of sparks behind him. "Bravo!" cried Petit-Pierre. "Now, pick up the saddle and bridle, and let us find shelter ourselves." They jumped the hedge, Michel having thrown the saddle and bridle before him. There they crouched down and listened. The gallop of the horse still resounded on the stony road. "Do you hear it?" said the baron, satisfied. "Yes; but we are not the only ones who are listening to it, Monsieur le baron," said Petit-Pierre. "Hear the echo." XLVI. MAÎTRE JACQUES PROCEEDS TO KEEP THE OATH HE MADE TO AUBIN COURTE-JOIE. The sound which Baron Michel and Petit-Pierre now heard in the direction by which Courtin had left them changed presently into a loud noise approaching rapidly; and two minutes later a dozen chasseurs, riding at a gallop in pursuit of the trail, or rather the noise made by the running horse, which was snorting and neighing as it ran, passed like a flash, not ten steps from Petit-Pierre and her companion, who, rising slightly after the horsemen had passed, watched their wild rush into the distance. "They ride well," said Petit-Pierre; "but I doubt if they catch up with that horse." "They are making straight for the place where our friends are awaiting us, and I think the marquis is in just the humor to put a stop to their course." "Then it is battle!" cried Petit-Pierre. "Well, water yesterday, fire to-day; for my part, I prefer the latter." And she tried to hurry Michel in the direction where the fight would take place. "No, no, no!" said Michel, resisting; "I entreat you not to go there." "Don't you wish to win your spurs under the eyes of your lady, baron? She is there, you know."