‘But to go to England thou must go to St Brieuc, and thence to St Malo,’ said the man, ‘and it is a long, long way, nigh fifty kilos.’
‘But I can walk; I am strong,’ said Pierre hopefully; ‘and perhaps some one else will give me a ride as thou hast done. And I have money. See here!’ and, with a confiding look he drew out of his pocket the four shining francs. ‘See. I will give thee one for the ride,’ he said, holding one out in his hand.
‘The good God forbid,’ said the man. ‘Nay, nay; keep thy money, my child. Thou wilt need it all. For when thou arrivest at St Malo thou wilt need some to give to the man on the steamer, if so be thou art really going to England. Put it away again, deep down in thy pocket, and let it not be seen by every man. Else wilt thou be robbed, and what will follow then, eh?’
By this time the cart had rumbled into the square, and driven through an archway into the courtyard of a little inn which stood somewhat back from the rest of the houses. The man got down, and so did Pierre. His legs were aching worse than ever now, and oh, how he wished that he might spend the night among the straw, instead of having to go and look for a sleeping-place! Indeed, he hardly knew how to go and look for one, for it had never entered into his calculations that he would need to spend a night on the road.
Perhaps the man saw the wistful look in his eyes, for after he had called to the landlord of the inn, and with his help had lifted down the great round tub-like barrel, with its living burden, and had carried it carefully into a small outhouse, where, apparently it was to remain during the night, and had seen his old gray horse safely tied up in one of the stalls in the stable, he turned to the little boy, who was still lingering near the archway.
He sank gratefully into the soft bed of straw which the kind countrymanmade up for him, and had fallen into a feverish sleep. | |
| V. L. | [Page 231]. |
‘Wouldst like a night’s lodging, little one?’ he said. ‘For if so, I could let thee lie in the same house as my piglets. I pay a few sous for the use of the outhouse; the owner of the inn is a cousin of my wife’s, and he lets me have it cheaply. I can put what I like in it, and I take the key, so, if thou wilt, I can take the straw from the cart and spread it down in a corner, and thou canst sleep there as safely and at less cost than if thou went somewhere and paid for a bed.’
Needless to say, Pierre agreed to this offer gladly. He was feeling so tired and ill that he would have been content to lie down in the open street, and he sank gratefully into the soft bed of straw which the kind countryman made up for him, and had fallen into a feverish sleep long before the little piglets had finished their supper of oatmeal and milk.
Nor did the good man’s kindness stop there. In the gray dusk of the morning he was back again, his honest face beaming with excitement. He stooped down and roused the sleeping boy. ‘See here, mon enfant,’ he whispered, ‘there is a chance, an unexpected chance, for thee to travel to St Malo—to Dinard, at least, and, once there, St Malo is just across the mouth of the river. Late last night one of these new-fashioned machines arrived—automobiles they call them. There is no one travelling in it but the driver; he is in the employment of a rich Vicomte who lives near St Malo. The car is a new one, and he has been sent to bring it home from the makers; so much he told last night to Jean Coudart, my wife’s cousin. And I sat, and I smoked, and I listened. Now, said I to myself, here is a chance, if the good God wills, for my little friend who desires to go to England. And before I went to rest I slipped out into the courtyard, on pretence of visiting my piglets, and I visited the car instead, and I found that it is a large one, with a great deep part behind, all covered over with tarpaulin, and underneath the tarpaulin are some soft rugs and other bundles which the man is carrying with him. So it seems to me that if thou wert to rise now, and hide in the car under the tarpaulin, thou wilt have an easy journey to Dinard; and when thou arrivest, if thou art quick, and slippest out when the driver is not looking, he need never know, and it will be all the same.’
Half-asleep and half-dazed, Pierre jumped up and followed his friend, hardly understanding all the plan, and yet understanding enough to know that if it were successful he would soon be quite out of reach of pursuit, the fear of which had dogged his broken slumbers all night.