"Panurge! Panurge! Vinegar! Vinegar!"
CARPALIM CATCHES SOME FRESH MEAT.
The good Pantagruel, having his back turned to the road, thought from this that Carpalim surely must be sick, and so ordered that vinegar should be at once brought. But Panurge, who happened to be looking out, had already noticed what Carpalim had about him, and told Pantagruel that his valet was carrying a fine stag around his neck, and around his waist a belt of hares. Wise Master Epistemon at once made nine handsome wooden spits in the old style. Eusthenes, wanting to be useful, helped him to skin the game; while Panurge placed two of the dead men's saddles in such a way that they served as andirons. The prisoner was made cook, and at the very same fire where his friends were burning, the poor cook roasted Carpalim's venison. Of course, everybody enjoyed the fresh meat after so much salt meat, and became very gay and chatty. Panurge evidently thought his friends were getting too noisy, for, of a sudden, he cried:—
"We had better think a little about our affairs, so as to decide in what way we will conquer our enemies."
"That is well thought on!" said Pantagruel.
He at once turned to the prisoner, and, wishing to frighten him still more, said: "My friend, tell us here the truth, and do not lie to us in any one single thing, if thou dost not want to be eaten alive, for they say I am he who eats little children. Give us, therefore, the order, the number, the strength in guns, of thy army."
"My lord," answered the prisoner humbly, "know for truth that in my army there are three hundred giants, all clad in armor, and wonderfully tall giants they are, too,—not quite so tall as Your Highness, save one who is their chief, who is called Loupgarou, and who is armed with anvils. Besides these giants, there are one hundred and sixty-three thousand foot-soldiers, all armed with the skins of hobgoblins, and all strong and valiant men; eleven thousand, four hundred men-at-arms; three thousand, six hundred double cannon, and quite too many arquebusiers to count; and ninety-four thousand pioneers."
"That is all very well, so far as it goes," said Pantagruel, dryly; "but is thy King there?"
"Yes, sire, the King is there in person. He is known among us as Anarchus, King of the Dipsodes, which is the same as saying the Thirsty People, because you have never yet seen a people so thirsty by nature or with such throats for drinking. The giants guard the King's tent."