Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1906-04-18

Whose orders?" I rerorted. h. $ >
"'Whose?" he answered b1untly,
well. Monsieur, that IL my business.
Enough that We mean to see you out
of the country, and out of harms way"
But il will not go?"'. i cried.
Monsieur will co." he answered
eoolly. There are no strangers in
the village to-day he added, with a
significant smile.
do you mean to kidnap me?" l re-
piled, in a rage. Behind the rage was
something-1 will not call it terror,
for the brave feel no terror-but it
was akin to it: had had to do with
rough men all my life, but there was
a grimness and turbulence iq the as
pect OF these three that shook me.
When I thought Of the dark paths and
narrow lanes and cliff-sides we must
traverse, whichever road We took,
trembled.
"Kidnap you, MONSIEUR" he an
swered, with an everyday air. THAT
is as you please to call it. One thing
is certain, however," he continued,
maliciously touching an arquebuss
which he had produced and set up
right against chair while was at
the door; IF you attempt the slight
! est resistance, we shall know how to
put an end to it, either here or on the
! road"
drew a deep breath. The very i'm
minence of the danger restored me to
the use of my faculties. changed my
tone and laughed aloud. $50 that Is
your plan, is it," said. "The sooner
we start the better, then. And the
sooner l see Auch and your back
turned, the more shall be pleased"
He rose. after you, Monsieur" he
said.
l could not restrain a slight SILVER
His newborn politeness alarmed me
more than his threats. knew the man
and his ways, and I was sure that it
BODIED i'll for me-
But l had no pistols, and only my
sword and knife, and I knew that re-
sistance at this point must be worse
than vain. / went out jauntily, there
fore, the landlord coming after me with
my saddle and bags.
The street was empty save for the
two waiting horsemen who sat in
their saddles looking doggedly before
them. The sun had not yet risen, the
air was raw. The sky was gray, cloudy
and cold. My thoughts flew back to the
morning son which I had found the
sachet-at that very spot, almost at
that very hour; and for a moment I
grew warm again at the thought of
the little packet l carried in my boot.
But the landlords dry manner, the sui
len silence of his two companions.
whose eyes steadily refused to meet
mine, chilled me again. For an instant
the impulse to refuse to mount. to re-
fuse to go, was almost irresistible;
then, knowing the madness of such a
course, which might and probably
would, give the men the chance thew
desired, | crushed it down and went
slowly to my stirrup.
Il wonder you do not want my
sword" said by way of sarcasm, as
| swung myself up.
I'VE are not afraid of it, the inn
keeper answered gravely. "You may
keep it-for the present."
l made no ansWer-What answer had
/ to make?-and We rode at a foot
pace down the street; he and leading,
Clon and the shock-headed man bring
ing up the rear. The leisurely mode of
our departure, the absence of hurry or
even haste, the mems Indifference
whether they were seen, or what was
thought, all served to sink my spirits.
anu deepen my sense of peril. felt
that they suspected me, that they more
than half guessed the nature of my
errand at Cocheforet, and that thew
were not minded to be bound by mad
emoiselle's orders. In particular aug
erd the worst from Clon's appearance.
His lean ma1ev0lent face and sunken
eyes, his very dumbness chilled me.
mercy had no place there.
We rode soberly, so that nearly half
an hour elapsed before we gained the
brow from which had taken nv first
look at Cocheforet. Among the dwarf
oaks whence I had viewed the valley
we paused to breathe our horses and
the strange feelings with which I
looked back on the scene may be
imagined. But had short time for
lndu1ging in sentiment or recollec-
lions. A curt word and we were NOV
ing again.
"A quarter of mile farther on the
road to Auck dipped into the valley.
When we were already half way down
this descent the inn-keeper suddenly
stretched out his hand and caught nv
rein. 'This way!" he said.
l saw he would have me turn into a
by-path leading south-westwards-a
mere track, faint and 1ittle trodden and
encrcached on by trees, which led I
knew not whittier. checked my horse.
Why? I said rebe]iiously. do you
think do not know the road? This
is the way to Auch."
"To Auch-yes," he answered blunt
~. But We are not going to Auch.''
whittier then?" I said angrQy.
"You will see presently" he spilled.
with an ugly smile.
Yes, but will know now!" I re.
torted, passion getting the better Of
me. II have come so far With you.
You will find it more easy to take me
farther, if you will tell me your plans"
You are fool" he cried, with q
snarl.
mot so," answered. IT ask only to