ould hear some sound scattered through the sky; and to lose none of it,
like the Emperor Antoninus some of us laid their hands hollow next to their
ears; but all this would not do, nor could we hear any voice. Yet
Pantagruel continued to assure us he heard various voices in the air, some
of men, and some of women.

At last we began to fancy that we also heard something, or at least that
our ears tingled; and the more we listened, the plainer we discerned the
voices, so as to distinguish articulate sounds. This mightily frightened
us, and not without cause; since we could see nothing, yet heard such
various sounds and voices of men, women, children, horses, &c., insomuch
that Panurge cried out, Cods-belly, there is no fooling with the devil; we
are all beshit, let's fly. There is some ambuscado hereabouts. Friar
John, art thou here my love? I pray thee, stay by me, old boy. Hast thou
got thy swindging tool? See that it do not stick in thy scabbard; thou
never scourest it half as it should be. We are undone. Hark! They are
guns, gad judge me. Let's fly, I do not say with hands and feet, as Brutus
said at the battle of Pharsalia; I say, with sails and oars. Let's whip it
away. I never find myself to have a bit of courage at sea; in cellars and
elsewhere I have more than enough. Let's fly and save our bacon. I do not
say this for any fear that I have; for I dread nothing but danger, that I
don't; I always say it that shouldn't. The free archer of Baignolet said
as much. Let us hazard nothing, therefore, I say, lest we come off bluely.
Tack about, helm a-lee, thou son of a bachelor. Would I were now well in
Quinquenais, though I were never to marry. Haste away, let's make all the
sail we can. They'll be too hard for us; we are not able to cope with
them; they are ten to our one, I'll warrant you. Nay, and they are on
their dunghill, while we do not know the country. They will be the death
of us. We'll lose no honour by flying. Demosthenes saith that the man
that runs away may fight another day. At least let us retreat to the
leeward. Helm a-lee; bring the main-tack aboard, haul the bowlines, hoist
the top-gallants. We are all dead men; get off, in the devil's name, get
off.

Pantagruel, hearing the sad outcry which Panurge made, said, Who talks of
flying? Let's first see who they are; perhaps they may be friends. I can
discover nobody yet, though I can see a hundred miles round me. But let's
con