The distress of the father and son became more and more evident.

"Do you persist in what you say, Bertaud?" said the mayor.

"Certainly."

"And you, Philippe?"

"Monsieur," stammered the young man, "we have told the truth."

"Really!" said M. Courtois, in an ironical tone. "Then you will
explain to the proper authorities how it was that you could see
anything from a boat which you had not entered. It will be proved
to you, also, that the body is in a position where it is impossible
to see it from the middle of the river. Then you will still have
to tell what these foot-prints on the grass are, which go from your
boat to the place where the ditch has been crossed several times
and by several persons."

The two Bertauds hung their heads.

"Brigadier," ordered the mayor, "arrest these two men in the name
of the law, and prevent all communication between them."

Philippe seemed to be ill. As for old Jean, he contented himself
with shrugging his shoulders and saying to his son:

"Well, you would have it so, wouldn't you?"

While the brigadier led the two poachers away, and shut them up