Nobody stirred, but Gerfaut threw such a penetrating glance at the Baron that the latter turned away his eyes.
“Gentlemen,” continued the magistrate, “I do not wish any of you to renounce the sport on account of this untoward incident. There is nothing attractive about this spectacle, and I assure you that if my duty did not keep me here, I should be the first to withdraw. Baron, I beg of you to send me two men and a stretcher in order to have the body carried away; I will have it taken to one of your farms, so as not to frighten the ladies.”
“The prosecutor is right,” said Christian, whom these words delivered from a terrible anxiety.
After a deliberation, presided over by Monsieur de Camier, the ‘tragueurs’ and the dogs left in silence to surround the thickets where the animal had been found to be hidden. At the same time the hunters turned their steps in the opposite direction in order to take their positions. They soon reached the ditch alongside of which they were to place themselves. From time to time, as they advanced, one of them left the party and remained mute and motionless like a sentinel at his post. This manoeuvre gradually reduced their numbers, and at last there were only three remaining.
“You remain here, Camier,” said the Baron, when they were about sixty steps from the last position.
That gentleman, who knew the ground, was hardly flattered by this proposition.
“By Jove!” said he, “you are on your own grounds; you ought at least to do the honors of your woods and let us choose our own positions. I think you wish to place yourself upon the outskirts, because it is always about that region that the animal first appears; but there will be two of us, for I shall go also.”
This determination annoyed Christian considerably, since it threatened to ruin the plan so prudently laid out.
“I am going to put our friend Gerfaut at this post,” said he, whispering to the refractory hunter; “I shall be very much pleased if he has an opportunity to fire. What difference does one boar more or less make to an old hunter like you?”
“Well and good; just as you like,” retorted Monsieur de Carrier, striking the ground with the butt-end of his gun, and beginning to whistle in order to cool off his anger.