"
"Peter Berrier is a free man," said Foret, "and declines going with you;
and as for your three soldiers, they have fired at and killed or wounded
two inhabitants of the town--they at any rate shall be brought before
the mayor, before they are given up."
"Sergeant," said the colonel, "take out six men and make prisoner that
man; if a rescue be attempted, the soldiers shall at once fire on the
people, and on your own heads be your own blood."
The sergeant and the six men instantly stepped out, but Foret was
surrounded by a dense crowd of friends, and the soldiers found it
utterly impossible to lay hold of him.
"Your pistols, sergeant; use your pistols," roared the colonel, as he
himself drew one of his own from his holsters, and at the same time gave
orders to the men in the ranks to present their pieces.
The sergeant followed by his six men, made a desperate dash into the
crowd with the object of getting hold of Foret; but in spite of the
butt-end of their pistols, with which the soldiers laid about them, they
found themselves overpowered, and were barely able to make good their
retreat to the main body of the detachment; at the same time, a volley
of stones, brickbats and rough missiles of all kinds, descended on the
soldiers from every side, for they were now nearly surrounded; a stone
struck the Colonel's horse and made him rear: immediately afterwards,
another stone struck himself on the side of the face, and nearly
dismounted him.
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