Never was there solitude more complete and more magnificent than at five o'clock that January morning among the Vosges mountains. The snow was piled up, softening the rugged outlines of the mountain peaks and through the pale darkness dim shadows were silently moving. These shadows are the brave mountaineers, who have come to defend France at the summons of Simon, who, in spite of his wooden leg, displayed immense activity. Among these there were no youths. The conscription had long since swallowed them up. They were elderly men and boys. Two of them were but fourteen, but they were vigorous and determined.

"We have arrived in time," said Simon, "but you are sure that there is no other road by which they can reach the village?"

"Only the one by which the wagon came with the wounded, but that, too, is well guarded."

"Yes," answered Simon, "a few brave fellows could keep an army back there, and you know we are continually receiving reinforcements. As soon as they understand that the gorge is impracticable, they will give up the point, and we shall feel that we have rendered effectual aid to France."

In the souls of these patriots there was a singular instinct of discipline. They listened in silence to Simon's words, and obeyed him whom they had taken for their leader without question or argument.

Simon called two men and bade them climb the high rocks on one side of the gorge. From thence they could look down the whole valley. The mists of the night had slowly drifted away, and the wind had died out. A gleam of sunshine, as pale as moonlight, rested on the mountain top.

The mountaineers waited long on the rocks, whither they had been sent, but returned to say that there was not a sound nor a movement.

"Let us go on," said Simon.

The gorge now became so narrow that only three men could move abreast. On each side rose high walls.

"Now, then," said Simon, "hide here. Keep your eyes open, and waste no ammunition. And you others will pass through that cleft which commands the lower road. Conceal yourselves well, and as soon as a Cossack appears, fire. Hans!"

A peasant ran at the sound of his name.

"If you hear firing from either of these posts, you are to advance at once with twenty men. Select them now, so that there will be no confusion."

Michel listened to these orders in silence.

"Well, comrade," said Simon, "what do you think of my arrangements?"

"They are excellent, and you ought to be a general."

"I could serve only the Republic," answered Simon, "I resigned in 1804."

Michel looked at him as if he did not more than half understand, then he muttered, reluctantly:

"Well, every man is entitled to his opinions."

"Now that our arrangements are made, we two will go on," said Simon.

They walked for some five minutes and reached the entrance of the gorge. There the road suddenly widened, and gently descended to the valley. On the left there was an enormous rock forty feet high. It was shaped like a pyramid standing on its apex. Simon went round it, feeling with his hands, tearing off bits of moss from time to time.

"Ah! we have it. Here, Michel, dig out this place with your bayonet!"

Michel obeyed, though without the smallest idea of what was to be done, and soon a hole of about a square foot was discovered.

"Now," said Simon, triumphantly, "I defy the Cossacks to pass this point!"

He laid on the ground a box that he had been carrying over his shoulder with great care.

"I have ten pounds of powder here!"

He proceeded to place this box in the hole, which it entirely filled. Then he produced a long wick, one end of which he inserted in the box. Then he nearly closed the box, leaving it only sufficiently open for the wick to burn easily.

"If our guns fail us," said Simon, grimly, "this will soon settle the matter!"

At this moment, from out of the woods on the side of the road sprang a man, shouting:

"Save me! Save me!"

Simon saw that the fellow was a gipsy, and that he had been wounded.

"Save me!" repeated the gipsy, "they will kill me!"

"Zounds! fellow," cried Michel, "who are you afraid of? I believe you are a spy!"

Simon motioned to Michel to be silent, and questioned the man who proceeded to say that he and his companions had been seized to act as guides through the forest.

"We refused," he said, "because you French had always been good to us. Then the soldiers killed one after the other of us as fast as we refused, and I ran away. They fired at me, and wounded me in the head. Oh! save me!"

Neither Simon nor Michel noticed the almost theatrical exaggeration of this fellow's gestures.

"The Cossacks are near?" asked Simon. "How many?"

"About five hundred."

"On this road?"

"Yes. Hark!"

The three men listened, and distinctly heard the smothered footfall of horses in the snow.

"They are coming!" said Simon.

The Bohemian crouched against the rock, and hiding his face, shivered with fear.

Simon entered the gorge, and carrying his fingers to his lips made a noise that sounded like the hoarse caw of a crow. Other signals answered this, showing that all were ready.

Simon stood listening. The sounds came nearer and nearer, and, presently, some fifty yards away, appeared the Cossacks. They came slowly, uneasy at the profound silence. Simon aimed at the leader, fired and the Cossack fell. Frightful yells filled the air, but they continued to advance.

Then from every rock and tree came a rain of balls, the echoes from the granite walls making the invaders suppose that the opposing force was a hundred times what it really was.

The Cossacks were ready enough to return the fire, but they saw no enemy; not a human being. Still they moved on, closing up their ranks, and their horses trampling on the dead bodies of their comrades. They reached the gorge. The peasants, sure of their prey, now forgot all prudence, and showed themselves. The Cossacks, with cries of rage, answered their fusillade. The scene was an absolute butchery.

Suddenly, a man in the uniform of the Helmans waved his sword, and the Cossacks pulled up their horses and turned them with inconceivable dexterity. This movement showed the length of their column. The gipsy was right, there were hundreds.

Simon, at this moment, uttered the exclamation:

"Back with you!" he cried. "To your places among the rocks!"

The mountaineers had seen the Cossacks fall, and all the old hatred that had sent their fathers to the Rhine in '92, again sprang to life in their veins. They rushed from out their shelter, regardless of danger. They heard Simon's voice, but did not understand his order, their rage deafened them. They had hitherto been amenable to discipline, but they were intoxicated by victory. It seemed to them that they could crush the invasion then and there. In vain did Simon shout "Halt!" They went on, and reached the rock.

"I don't like this," said Simon. "This retreat of the Cossacks looks like a ruse. Our men must go no further."

Then took place a horrible thing. The peasants were trying to crowd through the narrow passage by the rock. They were in such haste that they formed a struggling mass. Then from the dark corner rose the gipsy with the Judas face, and glided to the corner where hung the torch arranged by Simon. Presently, there was a little flash of light, and the gipsy threw himself far down the slope, just as a fearful explosion was heard. The rock split and fell upon the peasants. Of these valiant patriots only five remained—seven with Michel and Simon. They all stood nailed to the ground with horror.

And back came the Cossacks at full gallop. The rock had cut off all retreat. These seven men were between the barred-up gorge and the Cossacks.

Michel was the first to fall pierced by a lance. Simon realized that these men will reach his home, his wife and children, before he was nailed to the trunk of an oak by a Cossack's sword, and now Simon is dead!

Over this body of this hero, rolls the horrible flood that is to engulf France.

Talizac, Simon's brother, had said that the invasion should take this direction!