"Communion bread--he's a priest!" cried the first man, flinging the
breviary on the ground.
"Here's a wretch!" cried a third, finding only two crowns in the
pockets of the body he was stripping, "a cheat!"
"But he's got a fine pair of shoes!" said a soldier, beginning to pull
them off.
"You can't have them unless they fall to your share," said the
Fougeres man, dragging the dead feet away and flinging the boots on a
heap of clothing already collected.
Another Chouan took charge of the money, so that lots might be drawn
as soon as the troops were all assembled. When Hulot returned with
Gudin, whose last attempt to overtake the Gars was useless as well as
perilous, he found about a score of his own men and thirty of the
contingent standing around eleven of the enemy, whose naked bodies
were thrown into a ditch at the foot of the bank.
"Soldiers!" cried Hulot, sternly. "I forbid you to share that
clothing. Form in line, quick!"
"Commandant," said a soldier, pointing to his shoes, at the points of
which five bare toes could be seen on each foot, "all right about the
money, but those boots," motioning to a pair of hobnailed boots with
the butt of his gun, "would fit me like a glove."
"Do you want to put English shoes on your feet?" retorted Hulot.
"But," said one of the Fougeres men, respectfully, "we've divided the
booty all through the war.
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