eat one another. For his part, he took no stock in fighting, either
with fists or firearms, and alluding to the few hundred francs that he
had earned as substitute, added:

"And so, that was all they thought my hide was worth! Well, I am not
going to give them more than their money's worth."

Maurice and Jean were in a towering rage at the idotic onslaught,
talking loudly and repelling Chouteau's insinuations, when out from
the fog came a stentorian voice, bellowing:

"What's this? what's this? Show me the rascals who dare quarrel in the
company street!"

And Lieutenant Rochas appeared upon the scene, in his old _kepi_,
whence the rain had washed all the color, and his great coat, minus
many of its buttons, evincing in all his lean, shambling person the
extreme of poverty and distress. Notwithstanding his forlorn aspect,
however, his sparkling eye and bristling mustache showed that his old
time confidence had suffered no impairment.

Jean spoke up, scarce able to restrain himself. "Lieutenant, it is
these men, who persist in saying that we are betrayed. Yes, they dare
to assert that our generals have sold us--"

The idea of treason did not appear so extremely unnatural to Rochas's
thick understanding, for it served to explain those reverses that he
could not account for otherwise.

"Well, suppose they are sold, is it any of their business? What