“If we were to call out,” suggested Julien, somewhat mortified at the inefficiency of his assistance, “some one would perhaps come to our aid.”
They accordingly shouted with desperation; and after five or six minutes, a voice hailed back. A woodcutter, from one of the neighboring clearings, had heard the call, and was running toward them.
“This way!” cried the guide, “we are stuck fast in the mud. Give us a lift.”
The man came up and walked round the vehicle, shaking his head.
“You’ve got on to a blind road,” said he, “and you’ll have trouble in getting out of it, seeing as how there’s not light to go by. You had better unharness the horse, and wait for daylight, if you want to get your carriage out.”
“And where shall we go for a bed?” growled the driver; “there isn’t even a house near in this accursed wild country of yours!”
“Excuse me-you are not far from La Thuiliere; the farm people will not refuse you a bed, and to-morrow morning they will help you to get your carriage out of the mud. Unharness, comrade; I will lead you as far as the Plancheau-Vacher; and from there you will see the windows of the farmhouse.”
The driver, still grumbling, decided to take his advice. They unharnessed the horse; took one of the lanterns of the carriage as a beacon, and followed slowly the line of pasture-land, under the woodchopper’s guidance. At the end of about ten minutes, the forester pointed out a light, twinkling at the extremity of a rustic path, bordered with moss.
“You have only to go straight ahead,” said he, “besides, the barking of the dogs will guide you. Ask for Mamselle Vincart. Good-night, gentlemen.”
He turned on his heel, while Julien, bewildered, began to reproach himself for not having thanked him enough. The conductor went along with his lantern; young de Buxieres followed him with eyes downcast. Thus they continued silently until they reached the termination of the mossy path, where a furious barking saluted their ears.