From time to time the Comte de Bonneville stopped to reconnoitre the way and give his companion time to breathe. He warned him of the various obstacles in the path before they came to them, with a minuteness which showed how thoroughly familiar he was with the forest of Machecoul. "You see I am avoiding the paths," he said to his companion, during one of their halts. "Yes; and why do you do so?" "Because they will be certain to look for us in the paths where the ground is soft; whereas here, where there has not been so much trampling, our steps are less likely to be observed." "But perhaps this way is the longer." "Yes, but safer." They walked on for ten minutes in silence, when Bonneville stopped and caught his companion by the arm. The latter asked what the trouble was. "Hush! or speak very low," said Bonneville. "Why?" "Don't you hear anything?" "No." "I hear voices." "Where?" "There, about five hundred yards in that direction. I fancy I can distinguish through the branches a ruddy gleam of light." "Yes, and so can I." "What do you suppose it is?" "I ask you that." "The devil!" "Can it be charcoal-burners?" "No; this is not the time of year when they start their kilns. And if they were charcoal-burners, I should not like to trust them; I have no right, being your guide, to run any risks." "Is there any other road we could take?" "Yes." "Then suppose we try it." "I don't want to take it till reduced to the last extremity." "Why not?" "Because it crosses a marsh." "Pooh! you who can walk on the water like Saint Peter! Don't you know the marsh?" "I know it very well. I have often shot snipe there; but--" "But?" "It was by daylight." "And this marsh--" "Is a bog where, even in the daytime, I have come near sinking." "Then let us risk an encounter with these worthy people. I should not be sorry to warm myself at their fire." "Stay here; and let me go and reconnoitre." "But--" "Don't be afraid." So saying, Bonneville disappeared noiselessly in the darkness. XXXIX. PETIT-PIERRE MAKES THE BEST MEAL HE EVER MADE IN HIS LIFE. Petit-Pierre, left alone, leaned against a tree, and there, silent, motionless, with fixed eyes and straining ears, he waited, striving to catch every sound as it passed him. For five minutes he heard nothing except a sort of hum which came from the direction of the lights. Suddenly the neighing of a horse echoed through the forest. Petit-Pierre trembled. Almost at the same moment a light sound came from the bushes, and a shadow rose before him; it was Bonneville. Bonneville, who did not see Petit-Pierre leaning against the trunk of a tree, called him twice gently. Petit-Pierre bounded toward him. "Quick! quick!" said Bonneville, dragging Petit-Pierre away. "What is it?" "Not an instant to lose! Come! come!" Then, as he ran, he said:--