The child, who was on the alert, pricked up his ears. It seemed to him that he could hear the sound of horses's feet in the direction of the inn, which the night mist still prevented him from seeing distinctly. He was overjoyed. "My father must be here," he said to himself, "with all his people; perhaps with Monsieur d'Ars and his suite. I will hurry on." But Coquet required so much urging to go forward, that his young rider thought that he ought to try to fathom the intelligent creature's idea. He drew rein, and heard, much nearer at hand than the inn stable, the familiar neigh of Rosidor, the marquis's faithful palfrey. "So my father is over there, is he?" he said to himself. "I must be careful not to pass him on the road." And as he could distinguish nothing at his left except what seemed to be dense underbrush, he dropped the reins on Coquet's neck, feeling certain that he would find a way to join his stable companion. Coquet entered the underbrush and halted in front of a dilapidated, tumble-down hovel. It was the original _Geault-Rouge_ inn, abandoned to its own destruction twenty years before; Bois-Doré, Guillaume and Monsieur Robin having cooperated to build the new one and present it to Master Pignoux as a token of their esteem for his probity and his culinary skill. [Footnote 6: A dish compounded of several sorts of fish, with an elaborate sauce.] [Footnote 7: Monteil, _History of Frenchmen of Various Ranks_.] LI Mario entered without difficulty, there being no door. He put his hand upon Rosidor, whom he recognized by his accoutrements and his fine coat, as well as by his caressing voice; and the finding of his father's horse concealed in a ruin caused him to reflect. He looked about, called his father cautiously, and, having satisfied himself that he was alone, conceived it to be his duty to imitate the example which seemed to be given him, by fastening Coquet beside Rosidor, and proceeding on foot, and as noiselessly as possible, toward the new inn. He crept along the bushes and suddenly came upon a party of mounted men, who seemed to be pitching their camp in that place, some busied about their horses, which they were taking to the great stable opposite; others, who had already attended to that duty, stood in the road, exchanging in undertones and with a mysterious air words which Mario could not understand. He glided among them unobserved; but when he stood in the doorway of the great kitchen of the inn, illuminated by the bright fire on the hearth which shone through the door, he felt a rough hand seize him by the collar, and a gruff voice said to him in French, but with a very pronounced German accent: "No admittance!" At the same time he saw two tall dark-skinned men, armed to the teeth, standing guard on each side of the door. Thereupon Sancho's words recurred to his memory, and what Pilar had said of the reinforcement expected by the bandits.