"And Biscarrat at their head, mounted upon my gray horse," continued Aramis.
The hounds at the same moment rushed into the grotto like an avalanche, and the depths of the cavern were filled with their deafening cries.
"Ah! the devil!" said Aramis, resuming all his coolness at the sight of this certain, inevitable danger. "I am perfectly satisfied we are lost, but we have at least one chance left. If the guards who follow their hounds happen to discover there is an issue to the grotto, there is no more help for us, for on entering they must see both us and our boat. The dogs must not go out of the cavern. The masters must not enter."
"That is clear," said Porthos.
"You understand," added Aramis, with the rapid precision of command; "there are six dogs which will be forced to stop at the great stone under which the fox has glided—but at the too narrow opening of which they shall be themselves stopped and killed."
The Bretons sprang forward, knife in hand. In a few minutes there was a lamentable concert of growls, and mortal howlings—and then, nothing.
"That's well!" said Aramis, coolly; "now for the masters!"
"What is to be done with them?" said Porthos.
"Wait their arrival, conceal ourselves, and kill them."
"Kill them!" replied Porthos.