pted to be of assistance by making an
incision in the belly, for which there was no necessity whatever, the
scene of bloodshed became truly sickening. They wallowed in the gore
and entrails that covered the ground about them, like a pack of ravening
wolves collected around the carcass of their prey, fleshing their keen
fangs in it.

"I don't know what cut that may be," Loubet said at last, rising to his
feet with a huge lump of meat in his hands, "but by the time we've eaten
it, I don't believe any of us will be hungry."

Jean and Maurice had averted their eyes in horror from the disgusting
spectacle; still, however, the pangs of hunger were gnawing at their
vitals, and when the band slunk rapidly away, so as not to be caught in
the vicinity of the incriminating carcass, they followed it. Chouteau
had discovered three large beets, that had somehow been overlooked by
previous visitors to the field, and carried them off with him. Loubet
had loaded the meat on Lapoulle's shoulders so as to have his own arms
free, while Pache carried the kettle that belonged to the squad, which
they had brought with them on the chance of finding something to cook in
it. And the six men ran as if their lives were at stake, never stopping
to take breath, as if they heard the pursuers at their heels.

Suddenly Loubet brought the others to a halt.

"It's idiotic to run like this; let's decide where we shall go to cook
the stuff."

Jean, who was beginning to recover his self-possession, proposed the
quarries. They were only three hundred yards distant, and in them were
secret recesses in abundance where they could kindle a fire without
being seen. When they reached the spot, however, difficulties of every
description presented themselves. First, there was the question of wood;
fortunately a laborer, who had been repairing the road, had gone home
and left his wheelbarrow behind him; Lapoulle quickly reduced it to
fragments with the heel of his boot. Then there was no water to be had
that was fit to drink; the hot sunshine had dried up all the pools of
rain-water. True there was a pump at the Tour a Glaire, but that was too
far away, and besides it was never accessible before midnight; the men
forming in long lines with their bowls and porringers, only too happy
when, after waiting for hours, they could escape from the jam with their
supply of the precious fluid unspilled. As for the few wells in the
neighborhood, they had been dry for the la