Volume 8 — Chapter VIII.

Those whom Hullin named met in the hut attached to the saw-mill around the immense chimney. A sober sort of merriment seemed to play about the face of more than one.

"For twenty years I have heard people talking of these Russians and Austrians and Cossacks," said old Materne, smiling, "and I shall not be sorry to see one at the muzzle of my rifle."

"Yes," answered Labarbe; "we shall see enough of them at last, and the little children of to-day will have many a tale to tell of their fathers and their grandsires. And how the old women of fifty years hence will chatter of it at evening around the winter fire!"

"Comrades," cried Hullin, "you know the country—you know our mountains from Thann to Wissembourg. You know that two grand roads—the imperial roads—traverse Alsace and the Vosges. Both starting from Bâle, one runs along the Rhine to Strasbourg, and enters Lorraine by Saverne. Huningue, Neuf-Brisach, Strasbourg, and Phalsbourg defend it. The other turns to the left to Schlestadt. Leaving Schlestadt, it enters the mountains, and passes on to Saint-Dié, Raon-l'Etape, Baccarat, and Lunéville. The enemy would like to force the passage of these two roads, as they are the best for cavalry, artillery, and wagons; but, as they are well defended, we need not trouble our about them. If the allies lay siege to the cities upon them, the campaign will be dragged out to a great length, and we shall have nothing to fear; but this is not probable. After having summoned Huningue to surrender, and Belfort, Schlestadt, Strasbourg, and Phalsbourg, on this side of the Vosges, and Bitche, Lutzelstein, and Sarrebrück, on the other, they will fall upon us. Now, listen. Between Phalsbourg and Saint-Dié there are several defiles practicable for infantry, but only one for cannon, that is, the road from Strasbourg to Raon-les-Leaux, by Urmatt, Mutzig, Lutzelhouse, Phramond, and Grandfontaine. Once masters of this road, the allies can debouch in Lorraine. This road passes us at Donon, two leagues hence, to our right. The first thing to be done is, to establish ourselves upon it at the place most favorable for defence—that is, upon the plateau on the mountain; to break down the bridges, and throw heavy abatis across it. A few hundred large trees, with their branches, will do the work, and under their cover we can watch the approach of the foe. All this, comrades, must be done by to-morrow night, or by the day after, at the latest. But it is not enough to occupy a position and put it in a good state of defence. We must see that the enemy cannot turn it."

"That is just what I was thinking," said old Materne. "Once in the valley of the Bruche, and the Germans can bring their infantry to the hills of Haslach, and turn our left; and there is nothing to hinder their trying the same movement upon our right, if they gain Raon-l'Etape."

"Yes; but to prevent their doing either, we have only to occupy the defiles of the Zorn and of the Sarre on our left, and that of Blanru on our right. We must defend a defile by holding the heights, and, for that purpose, Piorette will place himself, with a hundred men, on the side of Raon-les-Leaux; Jerome, on Grosmann, with the same number, to close the valley of the Sarre; and Labarbe, at the head of the remain on the mountain, will overlook the hills of Haslach. You will choose your men from those belonging to the villages nearest your stations. The women must not have far to come to bring provisions, and the wounded will be nearer home. The chiefs of each position will send me a report each day, by a messenger, on foot, to Donon, where will be our headquarters. We will organize a reserve also; but it will be time enough to see to that when our positions are taken, and no surprise from the enemy is to be feared."

"And I," cried Marc-Dives, "am I to have nothing to do? Am I to sit with folded arms while all the rest are fighting?"

"You will superintend the transporting of our munitions. No one among us understands keeping powder as you do—preserving it from fire and damp—or casting bullets and making cartridges."

"That is a woman's work," cried the smuggler. "Hexe-Baizel can do it as well as I. Am I not to fire a shot?"

"Rest easy, Marc," replied Hullin, laughing; "you will find plenty of chances. In the first place, Falkenstein is the centre of our line—our arsenal and point of retreat, in case of misfortune. The enemy will know by his scouts that our wagons start from there, and will probably try to intercept them. Shots and bayonet-thrusts will not be wanting. Besides, we cannot confide the secret of your cave to the first comer. However, if you insist—"

"No," said the smuggler, whom Hullin's' reflections upon the cave touched at once. "No; all things well considered, I believe you are right, Jean-Claude. I will defend Falkenstein."

"Well, then, comrades," cried brave Jean-Claude, "we will warm our hearts with a few glasses of wine. It is now ten o'clock. Let each one return to his village, and see to the provisions. To-morrow morning, at the latest, the defiles must be occupied."

They left the hut together, and Hullin, in the presence of all assembled, named Labarbe, Jerome, and Piorette chiefs of the defiles; then he ordered those who came from the Sarre to meet, as soon as possible, near the farm of Bois-de-Chênes, with axes, picks, and muskets.

"We will start at two," said he, "and encamp on Donon, across the road. To-morrow, at daybreak, we will begin our abatis."

He kept old Materne, and his two sons, Frantz and Kasper, by him, telling them that the battle would surely begin on Donon, and sharp-shooters would be needed there. Mother Lefevre never seemed so happy. She mounted her wagon, and whispered, as she embraced Louise:

"All goes well. Jean-Claude is a man. He astonishes me, who have known him forty years. Jean-Claude," she cried, "breakfast is waiting, and a few old bottles which the Austrians will not drink."

"Good Catherine, I am coming."

But as he struck the horses with the whip, and as the mountaineers had just begun to scatter on their way to their villages, they saw, on the road to Trois-Fontaines, a tall, thin man, mounted upon a red mare; his hare-skin cap, with a wide peak, pulled well down upon his head. A great shepherd-dog, with long black hair, bounded beside him; and the skirts of his huge overcoat floated like wings behind him.

"It is Dr. Lorquin, from the plain," exclaimed Catherine; "he who at the poor for nothing; and that is his dog Pluto with him."

It was indeed he, who rushed among the crowd, shouting:

"Halt! stop! Halt, I say!"

His ruddy face, large, quick eyes, beard of a reddish-brown, broad, square shoulders, tall horse, and dog, in a moment appeared at the foot of the mountain. Gasping for breath, he shouted, in his excitement:

"Ah the villains! They wanted to begin the campaign without me! They shall pay for it!"

And, striking a little box he carried at his crupper, he continued:

"Wait awhile, my fine fellows, wait awhile! I have some things here you'll want by and by; little knives and great ones—round and pointed ones—to cut out the bullets and canister your friends yonder will treat you to."

So saying, he burst into a gruff peal of laughter, while the flesh of his hearers crept. After this agreeable pleasantry, Dr. Lorquin said gravely:

"Hullin, your ears should be cut off! When the country was to be defended, was I to be forgotten? It seems to me that a surgeon might be useful here, although may God send you no need of one!"

"Pardon me, doctor; it was my fault," replied Hullin, pressing his hand. "For the last week I have had so many things to think of that some escaped me, in spite of myself. But a man like you need not be called upon by me to do his duty."

The doctor softened.

"It is all well and good," he cried; "but by your fault I am here late. But where is your general? I will complain to him."

"I am general."

"Indeed!"

"And I appoint you surgeon-in-chief."

"Surgeon-in-chief of the partisans of the Vosges. Very good, Jean-Claude." And, approaching the wagon in which Catherine was seated, the doctor told her that he relied upon her to organize the hospital department.

"Very well," she answered; "forward. You dine with us, doctor."

The wagon started, and all the way the brave doctor laughingly told Catherine how the news of the rising reached him; how his old house-keeper Marie was wild with grief, and tried to keep him from going to be massacred by the Kaiserliks; the different episodes of his journey from Quibolo to the village of Charmes. Hullin and Materne and his sons marched a few paces in the rear, their rifles on their shoulders; and thus they reached the farm of Bois-de-Chênes.