was now five o'clock. Day was breaking, and Michel resolved to go no
further. Jacques was on the trail, and the young poacher was worth as
much as the old one. Michel circled the open as if he were returning
from Ceyzeriat, resolving to enter the inn and wait for Jacques' return;
certain that his son would know he had followed him and had stopped
short at this isolated house.

Michel knocked on the window-shutter and was soon admitted. He knew the
landlord, who was well accustomed to his nocturnal habits, asked for a
bottle, complaining bitterly of his poor luck, and asked permission to
wait for his son, who was in the woods on the other side, and who, he
hoped, had been more successful in tracking the game. It goes without
saying that this permission was readily accorded. Michel opened the
window-shutters, in order to look out on the road.

It was not long before some one knocked on the glass. It was Jacques.
His father called him.

Jacques had been as unfortunate as his father. No game; and he was
frozen. An armful of wood was thrown on the fire and a second bottle of
wine was brought. Jacques warmed himself and drank.

Then, as it was necessary that the two poachers should be back at the
chateau before daylight, that their absence might not be noticed, Michel
paid for the wine and the wood, and the pair departed.

Neither had said one word before the landlord of the subject that filled
their minds. He was not to suspect that they were on other trail than
that of game. But no sooner were they outside of the house than Michel
drew close to his son. Jacques recounted how he had followed the tracks
until they had reached a crossroad in the forest. There a man, armed
with a gun, had suddenly appeared and asked him what he was doing in
the forest at that hour. Jacques replied that he was watching for game.
"Then go further," said the man; "don't you see that this place is
taken?"

Jacques admitted the justice of this claim, and went on about a hundred
rods further, but, just as he was slanting to the left to return to the
crossroad, another man, armed like the first, had suddenly started up
with the same inopportune question. Jacques gave him the same answer:
"Watching for game." The man had then pointed to the edge of the woods,
saying in a threatening manner: "If I have any advice to give you, my
young friend, it is to go over there. It will be safer for you than
here."

Jacques had taken this advice, or at leas