Quick!"
Maurice knelt and deftly cut away the Lieutenant's boot. A pool
of blood collected on the floor.
"God save us!" cried the Captain, "his boot is full of blood."
He turned to Scharfenstein, who was approaching with the basin.
"What has happened, Max?"
Scharfenstein briefly explained.
"And Kopf?"
"Got away, curse him!"
"And the others?" with a lowering brow.
"They all got away," adding an oath under his breath. Max set
the basin on the floor.
"Bad, very bad. Why didn't you shoot?"
"He was afraid of hitting Mademoiselle Bachelier," Maurice
interposed.
Max threw him a grateful look.
"Humph!" The Captain called his men around him. "Two of you--.
But wait. Who's back of Kopf?"
"Our distinguished Colonel," snapped Max, "who was this day
relieved of his straps. A case of revenge, probably."
"Beauvais! Ah, ah!" The Captain smiled grimly. He had always
hated Beauvais, who had, for no obvious reason, passed him and
grasped the coveted colonelcy, and because, curiously enough,
the native troops had made an idol of him. "Beauvais? I am not
surprised. An adventurer, with neither kith nor country.
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