238 A MONTH IN THE FORESTS OF FRANCE. 



fanfares excitingly appellant: but either the short 

 black pipe was somniferous, or the piqueur would not 

 hear, for we waited at least the best part of an hour 

 for his appearance, although we could not have left 

 him above half a mile. I laughingly suggested his 

 having been surprised by wolves and eaten up while 

 he was smoking and his hounds strung to a tree, or 

 that other things might have happened, pertaining to 

 love as well as venery — being enabled to tease my 

 friend Jules, without reaching the ear of M. Brunier, 

 w^ho seemed much annoyed at the loss of time. At 

 last, however, the piqueur and his hounds came up, 

 and it was resolved to trot on to a still more distant 

 portion of the wood. Why we were to run away 

 from all the splendid cover around, I never could 

 by any possibility divine. Passing by a prettily- 

 situated little farm in the very midst of the forest, 

 some people again reported " The wolves ! " but no 

 notice was taken, none of the fine lying drawn, and 

 still we jogged on. At last the two piqueurs coolly 

 pulled up in a little rivulet that crossed the lane, 

 and one of them, producing a pocket-cup from his 

 brandy- flask, gave it to the other, who, dismounting, 

 began to refresh himself out of it first, and then to 

 hand it up to his friend, who still occupied the 

 saddle. 



