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"My papa wants to know what he's to do with the corporal, who ain't doing well," said Francois. "What's the matter with him?" asked Peyrade. "It's his head he pitched down hard on the ground," replied the boy. "For a gindarme who knows how to ride it was bad luck I suppose the horse stumbled. He's got a hole my! as big as your fist in the back of his head.
Seems as if he must have hit some big stone, poor man! He may be a gindarme, but he suffers all the same you'd pity him." The captain of the gendarmerie now arrived and dismounted in the courtyard. Corentin threw up the window, not to lose time. "What has been done?" "We are back like the Dutchmen! We found nothing but five dead horses, their coats stiff with sweat, in the middle of the forest.
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