"Some one?" repeated Michel Ardan.

"Yes; a man! He seems motionless. His rifle is not in his hands.
What can he be doing?"

"But can you recognize him?" asked Ardan, whose short sight was
of little use to him in such circumstances.

"Yes! yes! He is turning toward us," answered Maston.

"And it is?"

"Captain Nicholl!"

"Nicholl?" cried Michel Ardan, feeling a terrible pang of grief.

"Nicholl unarmed! He has, then, no longer any fear of his adversary!"

"Let us go to him," said Michel Ardan, "and find out the truth."

But he and his companion had barely taken fifty steps, when they
paused to examine the captain more attentively. They expected
to find a bloodthirsty man, happy in his revenge.

On seeing him, they remained stupefied.

A net, composed of very fine meshes, hung between two enormous
tulip-trees, and in the midst of this snare, with its wings
entangled, was a poor little bird, uttering pitiful cries, while
it vainly struggled to escape. The bird-catcher who had laid