The keen, sharp air cut our cheeks and warned me that we were approaching the summit of the ridge.
On all sides were silence and desolation.
MON DIEU! And the ruffians on whose tender mercies I was to be thrown might come to meet us! They might appear at any moment.

In my despair I loosened my hat on my head, and let the first gust carry it to the ground, and then with an oath of annoyance tossed my feet from the stirrups to go after it.

But the rascal roared to me to keep my seat.
'Forward, Monsieur!' he shouted brutally.

'Go on!' 'But my hat!' I cried.

'MILLE TONNERRES, man! I must--' 'Forward, Monsieur, or I shoot!' he replied inexorably raising his gun.
'One--two--' And I went on.