The Horseman on the Roof by Jean Giono Page B

him. “How much have you got?” he asked in a low voice. Angelo gaped. “Yes,” said the man, “what it takes. Everything has to be explained to you, I see; you really are from the mountain,” and he rubbed his thumb over his forefinger as if he were counting coins.
    This naïveté saved Angelo from a much greater danger than that of missing his dinner. He was so glad, after days of heroism, to meet a man whose cunning spoke to him of the refreshing peace of self-interest, that he was literally fascinated. He was also extremely hungry, and in spite of his aloofness the cholera was beginning to weigh on his mind.
    â€œOf course I have,” said Angelo stupidly.
    â€œWould you have at least a hundred francs?” said the man.
    â€œYes,” said Angelo.
    â€œI shall need two hundred,” said the man, “but get off the road and go round by the little stream down there. Watch out if you see the other guards through the trees; they’ve gone on patrol as far as the barricade on the Saint-Vincent road; then come up here from that side. Don’t try to bolt, I’ve got you covered, and remember, my boy, I’m not the least bit squeamish about shooting a man.” He pulled back his sackcloth sleeve and showed on his arm—which was enormous and hairy—the official tattoo-mark of the convict on heavy labor. He also tried to roll his little pig’s eyes in a frightening manner, but Angelo, on the contrary, couldn’t help drawing great comfort from this performance, and even from his shaven face, which displayed the signs of many vices.
    Nevertheless, as he crossed the stream, after making sure that the undergrowth was empty as far as he could see, he took advantage of the moment when he was passing close to a thick clump of alders, which hid him to the waist, to put his hand in his pocket and count out ten louis into his handkerchief.
    â€œThe rest,” he said to himself, “you can come and search for. You’ve been most obliging, but I need it. I’ll show you that we in the mountains can handle a pistol too.” It was pleasant, having to deal only with two-footed riffraff.
    â€œYou’re taking a long time,” shouted the man. “This is no time for counting daisies. I bet you stole that horse. Those who can’t ride should walk, my boy. I’m for sharing the wealth; you’ll find that out. Get a move on. All right, let’s see the color of it,” he said when Angelo got near him.
    â€œMoron,” thought Angelo, “can’t you see that if I tighten the reins and use my spurs you’ll get both my horse’s front hoofs in your chest? And then, good-bye to your cash.”
    â€œHere’s what I have,” he said, “if it means anything to you,” and he pulled six twenty-franc pieces out of his handkerchief.
    â€œThat’s what you say,” said the man, “but I prefer chimes. Fork out the rest. Who’s to stop me giving you a barrelful and saying you tried to rush the sentry?” “Those men coming down the hill there would stop you for sure,” said Angelo coldly, and he took one of his feet out of the stirrup. The man turned his head to look toward the hill and instantly received a booted toe on the chin. He fell backward, dropping his gun. With a leap, Angelo was on him and pressing the pistol into the small of his back.
    â€œHold on, citizen, stop this fooling,” said the man. “Where did you learn to vault? I’ve been obliging, haven’t I? Don’t play with firearms. I could have made you cough up when you were the other side. I don’t mind telling you, I thought of it, only you seemed so stupid. You’re a good one at hiding your game, you know.”
    â€œBetter than you think,” said Angelo, “and I haven’t yet shown you all I know. But I’m a decent fellow, and I’ll let you keep what I gave you if you’ll