"'Tis about noon, lad," replied Anton; "quite the hottest time of the day; and I have not seen no Joe, nor no Cecile, though I wants to see 'em; I ha' been a-looking fur 'em ever since they turned tail in that shabby way in Paris. I has a little debt to settle wid 'em two, and I'd like to see 'em again." "Oh! do you owe them money, and will you pay it? I am sure they'll be glad for that, for sometimes I hear Cecile say that she is afraid their money won't hold out, the journey is so very long. I am glad you owe 'em money, Anton; and as it is past noon, and they won't start to-day, we may as well go back to the hut at once. Oh! won't they be surprised ta see you, Anton?" Anton remained silent for a moment, his head buried in his hands. He was evidently thinking hard, and once he was heard to mutter, "a lucky chance; a rare and lucky chance." Then he raised his head again and looked at Maurice. "The others are in a hut, a hut in the forest, eh?" "Oh, yes! quite a nice, snug little hut, and not so very far from here. We sleep on pine needles in the hut, and they are so soft and snug; and, Anton, I don't want to leave it. I like the forest, and I hate long, long walks; I'd rather stay in the hut." "How far away did you say it wor, lad?" "Oh! not so very far away. I ran out quite early this morning, and I came down hill; and at last when I lost breath I stopped and gathered all these violets. Oh, they are withered--my poor violets! And then I ran a little bit and got this thorn into my foot, and after that I could walk no more. The hut can't be a great way off. Will you carry me back to it, Anton?" Anton laughed. "'Will I carry him?' did he say?" he exclaimed in a tone of some derision. "Well, wot next? I ain't strong enough to carry sech a big chap as you, my lad. No, no; but I'll tell you wot I'll do: I'll take you over to a comrade o' mine as is waiting for me jest outside the forest, quite close by. He's a bit of a doctor, and he'll take the thorn out of your foot; and while he's doing it, I'll run down to the hut and bring that big Joe o' yourn back. He'll carry you fine--he ain't a weakly chap like me." "Poor Anton!" said little Maurice, "I forgot that you were weak. Yes, that's a very kind plan." And he stretched out his arms for Anton to carry him just the little distance to his comrade at the other side of the forest. CHAPTER XIX. THREE PLANS.