Above the high road which intersects the mountain two-thirds of the way up, was at that time to be observed a farm surrounded by a few acres of cultivated land, the homestead of Pelsly, the Anabaptist, a large building with a flat roof such as was needed to avoid being carried away by the strong gusts of wind. The back part, extending in the direction of the mountain top, was appropriated to the stables and pigsties.
The confederates were encamped all around. At their feet lay Grandfontaine and Framont, confined within a narrow gorge; farther off, at the turning of the valley, Schirmeck, and its old pile of feudal ruins; and in the greatest distance of all, the Bruche disappearing in zig-zag in the vapourish mists of Alsace. To their left rose the barren summit of the Donon, thickly strewn with rocks and some stubbly firs; while before them was the snow-covered road, with huge trees unstripped of their branches thrown across it. The melting snow suffered the yellow pasture land to appear from time to time; at others it formed large waves tossed to and fro by the fierce north wind.
The prospect was at once awful and sublime. Not a pedestrian, not a vehicle appeared on the road which winds through the valley till it gradually disappears in the distance: the whole place seemed like a desert.
The few fires scattered round about the farm, sending their puffs of dense smoke up to the sky, alone indicated the position of the camp. The mountaineers seated round the fires over which their food was cooking, their broad-brimmed hats pushed back on their heads, their guns slung on their shoulders, were quite sad and desponding: for three days they had been on the look-out.
In one of these groups, with crossed legs, rounded back, and pipe in mouth, were old Materne and his two sons.
From time to time Louise would appear at the door of the farm, then re-enter very quickly and set to work again. A large cock, scratching on the dunghill, was crowing with a hoarse voice; two or three fowls were strutting up and down among the bushes. All this was pleasant to behold; but what chiefly rejoiced the volunteers was to contemplate the magnificent sides of bacon, of a beautiful red and white, so temptingly blended, hanging before the fire on spits of green wood, and yielding their luscious fat drop by drop on the embers, and to go and fill their drinking-cups at a little barrel of brandy placed on Catherine Lefévre's cart.
About eight o'clock in the morning, a man suddenly made his appearance between the Great and Little Donon; the sentinels immediately observed him; he descended the pathway, waving his hat. In a few minutes they recognised Nickel Bentz, the old forest ranger of the Houpe.
The whole camp was astir; some one ran to inform Hullin, who had been sleeping for an hour in the homestead on a large mattrass, side by side with Doctor Lorquin and his dog Pluto.
They all three came out, accompanied by the old shepherd, Lagarmitte, whom they had named the trumpeter, and the Anabaptist Pelsly, a grave and sedate man, his arms plunged to the elbows in his tunic of hodden grey with brass hooks, a broad fringe of beard encircling his massive jaws, and the tassel of his cotton cap hanging halfway down his back.
Jean-Claude appeared delighted. "Well, Nickel, what's going on down below there?" he exclaimed.