What Jean del' Peyra had said was true enough. The two men attending him would not dare to commit an act of treachery on the way to Ste. Soure. He and his father were safe till Noémi was restored. Jean spoke to his father. The old man was silent as he rode; now he roused himself as from a trance to answer Jean. "What did you say, my son?" "Father, we must push on at a quicker pace." "I cannot push on--I want to go to sleep." "To sleep, father?" "I am falling from my horse with fatigue. I must get off. I must lie down. I have not had my proper rest." Jean was dismayed; time was slipping along, the moon describing her arch in heaven; he must reach Le Peuch before daybreak, and now his father asked for a halt. It was true that he had allowed time for resting the horses on the way, but how long would the old man require for his repose? The strain on his nerves, the horror of the darkness and expectation of a lingering death in the vault, had been so great that a reaction had set in, and he was unable to keep his eyes open. "Father," said the young man, "you cannot tarry here on the open _causse_, we must get on, into the coppice, to a charcoal-burner's lodge. There is one at no great distance." A few minutes later Jean looked at his father. The old man had let fall his bridle, his head was sunk on his breast; in another moment he would have dropped from his saddle. The youth called to him, and Ogier started and said: "I am coming--directly." In another second he was again asleep. It was needful to dismount and make Ogier walk. So alone could he be kept awake. Half a mile distant was the charcoal-burner's heap, and a rude cabin of branches beside it. One of the _routiers_ led Ogier's horse. The old man became angry and irritable at being forced to walk. He scolded his son, he complained that he was badly treated; in vain did Jean explain that he desired him to go on but a little way. The Seigneur stood still, and said he must sit down--he could not, he would not proceed. Then Jean poured the rest of his flask of spirit down Ogier's throat, and said peremptorily, "You shall come on, whether you will or no." The old Seigneur obeyed, grumbled, and in a few minutes was at the charcoal-burning station, and had flung himself on a bed of fern in the hut, and was asleep almost as soon as he had cast himself on the bracken. The charcoal-burner recognised Jean del' Peyra and saluted him respectfully, but looked askance at the two _routiers_. "Have you seen or heard anything of the hunt?" asked the collier. "My mate has gone with the rest after the wolf. You see that grey beast has already carried off three children. Yesterday it was Mascot's babe--and now all the country is up; and they are going to run the wolf down. There is a ring formed round the _causse._They lured him with a dead sheep. It is to be trusted they will kill him."