"Move gently, now," said Marie, in a low voice; "we are close upon his hut." The soldiers could see nothing resembling a hut.

With their muskets loaded, and bayonets fixed, they with difficulty made their way through steep, rugged, and crooked passes, and, after a toilsome march, stood by the side of Jack's habitation.
The sergeant was now quietly arranging his men in such a manner as to insure the captivity or death of the outlaw, when one of the soldiers stumbled, and his musket struck the ground with a ringing noise.

Jack, who had just awakened from his drunken nap, heard the ominous sound.
He had no weapons, but relied on the security of his retreat and his activity and strength.

He cautiously opened the door, in front of which stood a soldier with his musket pointed towards him.

The sergeant cried, "Surrender, or you are a dead man!" Jack made one last desperate struggle for life.