“That is nothing,” said Thibault, “wait till you see each horse with two wolves hanging on to its hindquarters and another at its throat.”
The wolves now came in between the horses’ legs, and began caressing Thibault; one of them stood up, and put its front paws on Thibault’s chest, as if asking for orders.
“Presently, presently,” said Thibault, “there is plenty of time; do not be selfish, give your comrades time to come up.”
The men could no longer control their horses, which were rearing and shying, and although going at a foot’s pace, were streaming with sweat.
“Do you not think,” said Thibault, “you would do best now to come to terms with me? That is, if you were to let me free on condition that you all sleep in your beds tonight.”
“Go at a walking pace,” said one of the gendarmes, “as long as we do that, we have nothing to fear.”
Another one drew his sword. A second or two later there was a howl of pain; one of the wolves had seized hold of this gendarme’s boot, and the latter had pierced him through with his weapon.
“I call that a very imprudent thing to do,” said Thibault; “the wolves eat each other, whatever the proverb may say, and once having tasted blood, I do not know that even I shall have the power to hold them back.”
The wolves threw themselves in a body on their wounded comrade, and in five minutes there was nothing left of its carcase but the bare