hopeless, contented himself with making his horse move in zig-zags, so
as to escape the balls which he expected every moment. He was right, for
when they came about fifty feet from him, they fired, but thanks to his
maneuver, all the balls missed him. He immediately abandoned the reins
and let himself slip to the ground, taking the precaution to have his
sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.

He came to the ground in such a position that his head was protected by
the breast of his horse.

A cry of joy came from the troop, who, seeing him fall, believed him
dead.

"I told you so," said a man, riding up, with a mask on his face; "you
failed because you did not follow my orders. This time, here he is;
search him, and if he moves, finish him."

Chicot was not a pious man, but at such a moment he remembered his God
and murmured a fervent prayer.

Two men approached him sword in hand, and as he did not stir, came
fearlessly forward; but instantly Chicot's dagger was in the throat of
one, and his sword half buried in the side of the other.

"Ah! treason!" cried the chief, "he is not dead; charge your muskets."

"No, I am not dead," cried Chicot, attacking the speaker.

But two soldiers came to the rescue; Chicot turned and wounded one in
the thigh.