Not far from Chatillon one of the three horses had left the highroad, turning to the right toward a little chateau, standing on a hill a short distance from the road between Chatillon and Trevoux.

This time the three remaining riders, evidently believing they had done enough to mislead any one who might be following, had kept straight on through Chatillon and taken the road to Neuville.
The direction taken by the fugitives was eminently satisfactory to Roland; they were undoubtedly on their way to Bourg; if they had not intended to go there they would have taken the road to Marlieux.

Now, Bourg was the headquarters Roland had himself chosen for the centre of his own operations; it was his own town, and he knew, with the minuteness of boyish knowledge, every bush, every ruin, every cavern in the neighborhood.
At Neuville the riders had skirted the village.

Roland did not trouble himself about a ruse, already known and thwarted; but on the other side he found but one trail.

He could not be mistaken in that horse, however; it was the pacer.