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Forget-Not's tribe escape the deadly horse hoofs by quick side jumps. Within the next few minutes even while the head executioner is making the little victim ready Danton and his riders reach the barrier on the Guillotine side of Paris. Orders had already been received to close the gates at the cavalry's approach.
The orator's eyes were far away, his frame was convulsed by emotion as he cried: "My very life everything I owe to one of these victims!" The mob identified its cause with Danton's, submerged their personalities with his own! Robespierre answered Forget-Not's look.
Danton turned from the mob, swinging the peroration to the judges in the one impassioned cry of "JUSTICE!" Lion-like he glanced from those mean, denying souls to the rabble, and held out his hands. Like an avalanche, the "Mountain" swept down from benches to hall and on, on toward the judges. Murder was in their eyes. A word from the Thunderer would have sealed Forget-Not's fate. "His wish!
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