d a singular tint, and was soon
covered with lowering clouds that completely hid the sun. There were,
indeed, all the signs of a coming storm, but the vapor, on account of
the insufficient condensation, failed to fall.

The sea appeared quite deserted, a most unusual circumstance along this
coast, and not a sail nor a trail of smoke broke the gray monotony
of water and sky. The limits of the horizon, too, had become much
circumscribed. On land, as well as on sea, the remote distance had
completely disappeared, and it seemed as though the globe had assumed a
more decided convexity.

At the pace at which they were walking, it was very evident that the
captain and his attendant would not take long to accomplish the three
miles that lay between the gourbi and the place of rendezvous. They
did not exchange a word, but each was conscious of an unusual buoyancy,
which appeared to lift up their bodies and give as it were, wings to
their feet. If Ben Zoof had expressed his sensations in words, he would
have said that he felt "up to anything," and he had even forgotten to
taste so much as a crust of bread, a lapse of memory of which the worthy
soldier was rarely guilty.

As these thoughts were crossing his mind, a harsh bark was heard to the
left of the footpath, and a jackal was seen emerging from a large grove
of lentisks. Regarding the two wayfarers with manifest uneasiness, the
beast took up its position at the foot of a rock, more than thirty feet
in height. It belonged to an African species distinguished by a
black spotted skin, and a black line down the front of the legs. At
night-time, when they scour the country in herds, the creatures are
somewhat formidable, but singly they are no more dangerous than a dog.
Though by no means afraid of them, Ben Zoof had a particular aversion
to jackals, perhaps because they had no place among the fauna of his
beloved Montmartre. He accordingly began to make threatening gestures,
when, to the unmitigated astonishment of himself and the captain, the
animal darted forward, and in one single bound gained the summit of the
rock.

"Good Heavens!" cried Ben Zoof, "that leap must have been thirty feet at
least."

"True enough," replied the captain; "I never saw such a jump."

Meantime the jackal had seated itself upon its haunches, and was staring
at the two men with an air of impudent defiance. This was too much for
Ben Zoof's forbearance, and stooping down he caught up a huge stone,