They walked together toward the lantern light; the men standing there turned toward them and ceased their excited conversation. "Friends," said old Michaud simply, "this gentleman's name is Kervyn of Gueldres. I think that is sufficient for any Belgian, or for any man from the Grand Duchy?" Off came every hat. "Cover yourselves," continued Michaud calmly. "Monsieur, who has become an American, desires to be known as Monsieur Guild without further mark of respect. This also is sufficient for us all, I suppose. Thou! Jean Pascal, cease thy complaints and stand straight and wipe thy tears. By God, I think there are other considerations in Lesse Forest than the loss of thy sheep and of Schultz's cattle!" "M-my sheep are gone!" blubbered the boy, "I was too cowardly to defend them----" "Be quiet," said Guild. "It was not a question of your courage! You did wisely. Show equal wisdom now." "But I shall go after Uhlans now with my fusil-de-chasse! Ah, the cowards of Germans! Ah, the brigands----" "Cowards! Assassins!" muttered the other. "Grey wolves run when a man goes after them----" "You are wrong," said Guild quietly. "Germans are no cowards. If they were there would be no credit for us in fighting them. Don't make any mistake you men of the Ardennes; their soldiers are as brave as any soldiers. And where you belong is with your colours, with your classes, and in uniform. That's where I also belong; that's where I am going if I can find out how to go. Perhaps one of you can guide me. Think it over. Keep cool, and listen to Michaud, who is older and wiser than all of us." There was a profound silence. Then a voice from the darkness, very distinct: "I have seen red. It is necessary for me to bleed an Uhlan!" Guild walked toward the sound of the voice: "Who are you?" he demanded. "_Moi, je suis de Moresnet!_" "Then you'd better go back to the zinc mines of Moresnet, my friend. No Uhlans will trouble you down there." And, aside to Michaud: "Look out for that young man from Moresnet. He's too hotly a Belgian to suit my taste." "Monsieur, he is a talker," said Michael with a shrug. "My friend, be careful that he is nothing more dangerous." "Ah, sacré bleu!" exclaimed the forester, reddening to his white temples--"if any of that species had the temerity to come among us!----" "Michaud, they might even be among the King's own entourage.... No doubt that fellow is merely, as you say, a talker. But--he should not be left to wander about the woods _alone_. And, tell me, is there anybody else you know of who might do something rash tonight along the boundary?" "Monsieur--there are two or three poor devils who escaped the firing squads at Yslemont. They live in our forest, hiding. Our people feed them." Guild said in a troubled voice: "Such charity is an obligation. But nevertheless it is a peril and a menace to us all."