my guardians looked towards me, every muscle in their bodies straining,
waiting for the single word, "_Apporte!_"

"_Couchez!_" I hissed, and awaited developments.

The footsteps drew nearer and nearer, and in a moment the stooping
figure of an old peasant came over the brow of the hill. The gait was
too familiar to be mistaken. But what on earth was father Poupard doing
on the highroad at that hour?

When he was within speaking distance I came out from the shadow of the
wall and put the question. If he had suddenly been confronted with a
spook I do not think the old man could have been more astonished. He
stopped dead still, as though not knowing whether to turn about and run,
or to advance and take the consequences. Realizing his embarrassment, I
hastily proffered a few words of greeting, and then he chose the latter
prerogative.

"-Vous?_" he said, when at length he found his tongue. "_Vous?_"

"Yes--why not?"

"Who's with you?"

"Nobody. Why?"

He seemed more embarrassed than ever. Evidently he hadn't yet "caught
on."

"What can I do for you?" I continued.