The fugitives now addressed themselves to their meal with the keenness of starving men; but the prudent Morton took care, at the same time, to secure the more portable of the viands for future need. Having dulled the edge of his appetite, he began to grow uneasy at the landlord's long absence. "What is that man doing? He might have brewed the beer by this time." "He _does_ take his time," responded Max, also growing anxious. "This is no place for us. Take the rest of that biscuit, and let's be off." Max was following this counsel, when---- "Hark!" cried Morton; "what noise is that?" "Go to the window and look." Morton did so. "My God!" he exclaimed, recoiling, his face ghastly with dismay. Max sprang to the window. Below, at the door, four or five men were standing, and among them two gendarmes, while others were in the act of entering. The outlandish dress of the two strangers had at once roused the landlord's suspicion. Of Max's character he had not a moment's doubt; for in him no disguise could hide the look and port of the trained soldier. By ill luck, a party of gendarmes were in the village, weather-bound on their way from Latsch. Having secured his guests' money, the landlord thought to make a farther profit from them; and, sure of his reward, reported to the officer in command, that there were in his house two men, the taller of whom was certainly a deserter, while the other could not be a peasant, though he wore the dress of one. The officer mustered his followers, and hastened to beat up the game. He entered as Max turned from the window, and came up to him, sword in hand. "I arrest you. Give yourselves up, you and the other." But before the words were well out of his mouth, the fist of Max fell between his eyes like a battering ram, and dashed him back against the soldier next behind him. "Come on," cried Max to Morton, and leaped through the open window at the farther end of the room. Morton followed in time to escape two or three bayonet thrusts which were made after him. They both vaulted over a fence, and ran through the narrow passage between an old shed and a huge square stack of the last year's hay. A musket or two were let off at them, but to no effect; and splashing across a shallow brook, they made at headlong speed for the shelter of the mountains. As they reached the base, Max looked back. Seven or eight gendarmes were after them, and behind, later joining the chase, ran two or three men in a different dress. "Riflemen!" muttered Max, with an oath. Breasting the rough heights, clinging to stumps, roots, and bushes, they made their way up with all the speed which desperate need could give them. They were soon among thick trees, hidden from the pursuers, and almost from each other. But the shouts of the soldiers came up from below: they all gave tongue like so many hounds.