Desnoyers had climbed to the top of his towers and was surveying the country with his field glasses.

He couldn't make out the highway through the nearest group of trees, but he suspected that underneath their branches great activity was going on--masses of men on guard, troops preparing for the attack.

The unexpected defense of the fugitives had upset the advance of the invasion.

Desnoyers thought despairingly of that handful of mad fellows and their stubborn chief.

What was their fate going to be?
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