A weight was lifted from him with their going, and once more his spirits bounded upward.
He was Achille Garay, bold and venturesome, and although he was without weapons he did not fear two lads.
Three miles farther on he turned.

He did not care to face St.Luc, his letter lost, and the curious, dogged obstinacy that lay at the back of his character prevailed.

He would go back.

He would reach those for whom his letter had been intended, Martinus and the others, and he would win the rich rewards that had been promised to him.

He had plenty of food, he would make a wide curve, advance at high speed and get to Albany ahead of the foolish three.
He turned his face southward and walked swiftly through the thickets.
A rifle cracked and a twig overhead severed by a bullet fell upon his face.