"That is not a horse near home," thought the young novice.

And, meanwhile, according to what Harris had said the evening before,
there only remained six miles to go, and, of these last six miles, at
five o'clock in the evening four had been certainly cleared.

Now, if the horse felt nothing of the stable, of which he should have
great need, nothing besides announced the approaches to a great
clearing, such as the Farm of San Felice must be.

Mrs. Weldon, indifferent as she then was to what did not concern her
child, was struck at seeing the country still so desolate. What! not a
native, not a farm-servant, at such a short distance! Harris must be
wild! No! she repulsed this idea. A new delay would have been the death
of her little Jack!

Meanwhile, Harris always kept in advance, but he seemed to observe the
depths of the wood, and looked to the right and left, like a man who
was not sure of himself--nor of his road.

Mrs. Weldon shut her eyes so as not to see him.

After a plain a mile in extent, the forest, without being as dense as
in the west, had reappeared, and the little troop was again lost under
the great trees.

At six o'clock in the evening they had reached a thicket, which
appeared to have recently given passage to a band of powerful animals.
Dick Sand looked around him very attentively. At a distance winch far