“Porthos, take yours from your holsters.”
“I have them.”
“Good!” said D’Artagnan, seizing his own; “now you understand, Porthos?”
“Not too well.”
“We are out on the king’s service.”
“Well?”
“For the king’s service we need horses.”
“That is true,” said Porthos.
“Then not a word, but set to work!”
They went on through the darkness, silent as phantoms; they saw a light glimmering in the midst of some trees.