Count Hannibal

They laughed uproariously as Simon emerged, rubbing his elbow.

"There's for you! There's your preacher!" his opponent jeered.

"D---n her! she gives tongue as fast as any of them!" gibed a second.

"Will you try again, Simon? You may find another love-letter there!"

"Have done!" a third cried impatiently. "He'll not be where the hen is!

Let's back! Let's back! I said before that it wasn't this way he

turned! He's made for the river."

"The plague in his vitals!" Simon replied furiously. "Wherever he is,

I'll find him!" And, reluctant to confess himself wrong, he lingered,

casting vengeful glances at the hay.

But one of the other men cursed him for a fool; and presently, forced to

accept his defeat or be left alone, he rejoined his fellows. Slowly the

footsteps and voices receded along the lane; slowly, until silence

swallowed them, and on the quivering strained senses of the two who

remained behind, descended the gentle influence of twilight and the sweet

scent of the new-mown hay on which they lay.

La Tribe turned to his companion, his eyes shining. "Our soul is

escaped," he murmured, "even as a bird out of the snare of the fowler.

The snare is broken and we are delivered!" His voice shook as he

whispered the ancient words of triumph.

But when they came to look in the nest at Tignonville's feet there was no

egg!