Chapter XII: The Robbers

The children were assembled in the yard, and with them were many donkeys from the neighboring villages. I recognized nearly all of the latter as my rivals at the race. John’s donkey eyed me savagely, whilst I, in return, bestowed upon him most insulting glances. Nearly all the grandchildren of James’s grandmother were there: Maud, Beatrice, Elizabeth, Helen, Ruth, William, Henry, Louis and James. All the mammas were to accompany them on donkeys, whilst the papas went on foot and armed with switches to keep the lazy animals moving. Before starting, there was as usual in such cases, a slight contention as to who should have the best animal; everybody wanted me, no one was willing to give up, so it was at last decided to draw lots. I fell to the lot of little Louis, James’s cousin; he was an excellent child, and I would have been well satisfied had I not seen poor little James’s unsuccessful efforts to hide his tears. Every time he looked at me they would flow afresh. I felt very sorry, but was unable to comfort him; however, it was necessary for him as well as myself to learn resignation and patience. With manly resolution he mounted his donkey, saying to Louis as he did so:

“I will keep near you, Louis; don’t make Cadichon gallop too fast, or I will be behind.”

“And why would you remain behind? why not gallop like me?”

“Because Cadichon gallops faster than any other donkey in the country.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I saw him run for the prize the day of the donkey race at the village, and he was far ahead of all the others.”

Louis promised his cousin not to go too fast, and we both started off in a trot. My companion was no laggard, so I had to restrain myself but little that we might keep together. The others following, some briskly, some tardily, we thus reached the forest where stood the very beautiful ruins of an old convent and chapel that the children were anxious to see. The place bore an evil reputation throughout the country, and no one liked to go there except in large companies. At night, it was said, strange noises were heard issuing from the ruins, groans, cries, the clinking of chains; and several travelers who laughed at these accounts, and went to visit the spot alone, never returned and were never afterwards heard of.

Every one dismounted, and when we had been turned loose to graze with the bridle over our heads, the papas and mammas took their children by the hand to prevent their straying off or lagging behind, and much to my anxiety the whole party was soon lost to sight amid the ruins. I likewise left my companions, and screened myself from the sun under a half-ruined arch, upon a declivity beside the woods, and a little farther distant than the convent. I had scarcely been there a quarter of an hour when I heard a noise near the arch. Crouching in a recess of the ruined wall, where unperceived, I could see all around, I listened. The noise, though dull, increased; it seemed to be underground.

Not many minutes and I saw a man’s head cautiously peering up amidst the bushes.

“Nothing,” said he in a low tone, looking all around. “No one—you may come, comrades. Every one is to take a donkey and lead him carefully.”

He then moved out of the way to allow passage to about a dozen men.

“If the donkeys escape,” said he, in an undertone, “don’t amuse yourselves running after them. Quick, and no noise, that is the order.”

Creeping through the woods, which were very thick just there, the men moved cautiously but quickly. The donkeys seeking shade, were browsing upon the grass at the edge of the forest. At a given signal, every robber caught a donkey by his bridle and led him into the thicket. Instead of resisting, struggling and braying to give the alarm, these donkeys allowed themselves to be taken as passively as if they were sheep. Five minutes after the robbers had reached the thicket at the foot of the arch. One by one my comrades were led into the bushes, whence they disappeared. I heard the noise of their footsteps under ground, then all was silent.

“Here,” thought I, “is an explanation of the mysterious noises that have frightened the country, a band of robbers concealed in the convent vaults. They must be taken, but how? that’s the difficulty.”

I remained concealed in my recess (whence I had a fine view of the entire convent ruins, and the surrounding country), and did not stir until I heard the voices of the children seeking their donkeys. Then I ran forward to prevent their going too near the arch and thicket, so skilfully concealing the entrance to the vaults that it was impossible to perceive them.

“There is Cadichon!” exclaimed Louis.

“But where are the others?” said all the children at once.

“They must be near,” said Louis’s papa.

“We had better seek them by the ravine behind the arch; the grass there is fine, and they have probably wished to taste it.”

Trembling at thoughts of the danger they incurred, I rushed from the side of the arch to prevent their passing. They endeavored to make me move, but I resisted so stoutly, barring the passage whichever way they attempted to go, that Louis’s papa stopped his brother-in-law and said to him:

“Listen, there is something very extraordinary about Cadichon’s behavior. You know what is said of this animal’s intelligence. Listen to me, and let us turn back. Besides, it is not likely that all the donkeys would be on the other side of the ruins.”

“You are right,” answered James’s papa, “and I perceive the grass around the arch pressed down as if it had been recently trampled upon. No doubt our donkeys have been stolen.”

They returned towards the mammas, who had kept the children with them, and I followed with a light heart, happy at having probably averted a terrible calamity. They talked low, and I perceived that they got close together.

“How shall we manage this?” said Louis’s mamma, when they had called me up. “One donkey can’t carry all these children.”

“Put the smallest on Cadichon, and let the rest follow with us,” said James’s mamma.

“Come, Cadichon, let us see how many you can carry,” said Helen’s mamma.

Ruth being the smallest, was put in front, then Helen, then James, then Louis. The whole four were not heavy, and wishing to show that I could carry them without the least fatigue, I set off in a trot.

“Not so fast, Cadichon!” cried the papas, “gently, so we can hold on to those on your back.”

I changed my gait to a walk, and proceeded, surrounded by the larger children and the mammas, the papas following to assist those that were disposed to lag behind.

“Mamma, why didn’t papa hunt for our donkeys?” said Henry, who was the youngest of the band, and found the way long.

“Because your papa thinks they have been stolen, and it would be useless to seek them.”

“Stolen! who stole them? I saw nobody.”

“Nor did I, but there were traces of footsteps around the arch.”

“But then, mamma, he ought to have hunted for the robbers,” said William.

“That would have been very imprudent, as there must have been several men, to have taken thirteen donkeys. They were probably armed, and would have killed or wounded your papas.”

“Armed, mamma!” said William.

“Yes, with clubs, knives, perhaps pistols.”

“Oh! how very dangerous! Papa was right to return with my uncles!” exclaimed Maud.

“We must hasten home, for your papa and uncles are going to the village after our return.”

“Why, mamma?” asked William.

“To warn the guards, and try to recover the donkeys.”

“I am sorry we went to see the ruins,” said Maud.

“Why?” replied Beatrice, “they were beautiful.”

“Yes, but it was very dangerous. Suppose the robbers had captured us instead of the donkeys?”

“That would have been impossible! there were too many of us,” said Elizabeth.

“But there must have been a number of robbers,” was Maud’s reply.

“We would all have fought them,” said Elizabeth.

“With what? we had only a stick.”

“And our feet, our fists, our teeth; I would have scratched them to death; I would have torn their eyes out!”

“And the robbers would have killed you, that’s all,” said William.

“Killed me! and papa and mamma there! do you suppose they would have allowed the robbers to carry me off or kill me?”

“The robbers would have killed them too, and before they killed you,” answered Beatrice.

“Do you think, then, that there was an army of robbers?”

“There could not have been less than a dozen.”

“A dozen? what nonsense! do you believe that robbers always go in dozens, like oysters?”

“You are always making fun of whatever is said to you! I say that to carry off thirteen donkeys, there must have been at least twelve men.”

“I bet so myself, and the thirteenth was to make good measure, like little pies.”

The mammas, and the other children laughed at this conversation, until it turned into dispute; then Elizabeth’s mamma bade her be silent, and said that Beatrice was probably correct as to the number of robbers.

We were not long in reaching the house, and great was the surprise of all there, to see the party returning on foot, and me, Cadichon, carrying four children. But when the papas recounted the disappearance of the donkeys, and my persistency in not allowing any one to approach the arch, all shook their heads, and gave vent to a multitude of most singular suppositions; some said the donkeys had been swallowed up by demons; others, that the religious buried in the chapel had seized them to ride all over with them; and others again, that the angels guarding the convent, reduced to dust and ashes every animal approaching too near the cemetery where the souls of the religious wandered. Not one suggested the idea of robbers concealed in the vaults.

Immediately on their return, the three papas acquainted the grandmother with the probable theft of their donkeys, after which the horses were put to the carriage, and they went to lay their complaint before the authorities of the neighboring town. In two hours they returned with an officer and six guards. Such was my reputation for intelligence, that the gravest suspicions were based upon my resistance to the attempted passage of the arch. The guards were armed with pistols and carbines, ready to take the field. However, they accepted the grandmother’s invitation to dinner, and sat down to the table with the ladies and gentlemen.