uld
have alarmed the inmates, or, worse still, should have set some
watch-dog barking; but no noise followed to tell him that his presence
was detected, while, as if to give him greater assurance, the notes of
the organ and that deep, manly voice came even louder to his ears,
proving that those within the house had heard nothing.

"It's a chance in a hundred," he told himself. "Here's the back
door--shut and locked--eh? No, not locked--opens easily,
and--and--ah!--the twinkling light is caused by a fire--a kitchen,
right enough--that looks like food; now where is it?"

Entering the place without hesitation, he groped about till his fingers
lit upon a dresser, and then upon a candle, which he lit by bending
over the flames of the fire and igniting the wick. Then he made a
thorough search of the place, only to discover that there was not a
scrap of food present. However, there was a door leading out of the
back of the kitchen into a small outhouse, and there he found a larder
well stocked with provisions.

"All's fair in love and war," he said, as he looked about him. "A
sausage--eh, that's something--and a round of beef, which is something
better. Here's a loaf of bread, and, 'pon my word, a basket and some
bottles of beer--what more does a fellow want?"

To appropriate the articles, to pop them into the basket, to blow out
the candle, and to march from the kitchen were the work of a few
moments. He slunk away from the farm, out through the wicket-gate,
along the path which he had pursued, back towards the river, and then
gave vent to a whistle. There came at once an answering whistle, and,
getting his direction from the sound, Henri soon found himself by his
companions.

"W--w--what have you got?" said Jules, his teeth chattering, his words
broken and shredded by the cold from which he was suffering. Even the
stalwart and healthy Stuart was no better.

"Y--y--yes?" he demanded, though there was no fire in his question, and
but little eagerness. "W--w--what the d--d--dickens have you got in
that b--b--basket? Lor! W--w--what a weight it is, and, by all the
saints! b--b--beer bottles--well I'm b--b--b--blest!"

"You're beastly cold at any rate," said Henri; "too cold by far to
enjoy cold bottled beer, cold beef, and cold sausage, while I'm
beautifully warm, thanks to the exercise I've been taking. Look here,
you fellows, it's no use our attempting to stay out here and eat our
rations, for we'll catch