He handed the farmer his gun and a bag of bullets. Calm as the veteran was, he inspired terror in Catherine as he sat at table.
“By the way I cast thirteen bullets instead of a dozen so I squandered one on the hare you see. Your gun carries fine.”
“Is there a prize for shooting offered anywhere?” asked Pitou simply. “You will win it, I guess like you did that silver cup and the bowl you are drinking of, Miss Catherine. Why, what is the matter?”
“Nothing,” replied the girl opening her eyes which she had half closed and leaning back in her chair.
“All I know is,” said Billet, “that I am going to lay in wait. It is a wolf, I think.”
Clovis turned the bullets out on a plate. Had Pitou looked from them to Catherine he would have seen that she nearly swooned.
“Wolf?” repeated he. “I am astonished that before the snowfalls we should see them here.”
“The shepherd says one is prowling round, out Boursonne way.”
Pitou looked from the speaker to Catherine.
“Yes, he was spied last year, I was told; but he went off, and it was thought forever; but he has turned up again. I mean to turn him down!”