western sky was red; and night began to close in, and still they urged
their tired horses on. There would be a moon a little past its full,
and they counted on its light when it should rise.

The trail of the Puants descended to the Bottom again at the head of
the Grand Marais. There was heavy timber here. The night shadow of
trees and rocks covered them, and they began to move more cautiously,
for all signs pointed to a camp. And sure enough, when they had passed
an abutment of the ridge, far off through the woods they saw a fire.

My son (mon Oncle Mathieu would say at this point of the story), will
you do me the favor to bring me a coal for my pipe?

(The coal being brought in haste, he put it into the bowl with his
finger and thumb, and seemed to doze while he drew at the stem. The
smoke puffed deliberately from his lips, while all the time that
mysterious fire was burning in the woods for my impatience to dance
upon with hot feet, above the Grand Marais!)

Oh, yes, Gabriel and his men were getting very close to the Puants.
They dismounted, and tied their horses in a crabapple thicket and
crept forward on foot. He halted them, and crawled alone toward the
light to reconnoitre, careful not to crack a twig or make the least
noise. The nearer he crawled the more his throat seemed to choke up
and his ears to fill with buzzing sounds. The camp fire showed him
Celeste tied to a tree. She looked pale and dejected, and her head
rested against the tree stem, but her eyes kept roving the darkness in
every direction as if she expected rescue. Her bridal finery had been
torn by the bushes and her hair was loose, but Gabriel had never seen
Celeste when she looked so beautiful.