"Enough!" said Pantagruel. "Brave boys, are you willing to follow me?"
"May Heaven confound those who would leave you!" cried out Panurge.
Then the party began to joke one another about the prisoner's report, and to boast about the glorious feats each one was going to do on the giants who guarded King Anarchus' tent.
As was his habit the noble Pantagruel laughed at all the nonsense, but, in the midst of a good shaking, he suddenly thought of what was really before him.
"Gentlemen," he said, "you reckon without your host. I am rather afraid that, if you go on much longer in the way you are now, it will not be dark before you are in such a state that those Thirsty People can come here and maul you with pike and lance. So, then, children, let's be marching. However, before we leave this place, in remembrance of the courage you have just shown, I wish to erect here a fine trophy."
THE TROPHY.
This was a happy idea, and everybody was at once busy—singing meanwhile pleasant little songs—in setting up a high post. This done, they hung up on the post a great cuirassier saddle, the front-piece of a barbed horse, bridle-bits, knee-pieces, stirrups, stirrup-leathers, spurs, a coat of mail, a battle-axe, a strong, short, sharp sword, a gauntlet, leg-harness, and a throat-piece,—all spoils from the poor horsemen whose bones were then lying half-charred on the sands.
And this was the trophy which Pantagruel raised.