“Do you stay here, master, I will go round and see if I can find a place. I am more accustomed to these villages than you are.”
In five minutes he returned. “I have found a capital place,” he said. “It is a stable, but it is empty. No doubt the Spaniards have taken the horses, and are using them in their transport wagons.”
“It is enough for us that the place is empty, Paolo.”
The door stood ajar. They entered and closed it behind them, and they then felt about until they found a pile of rough fodder. They pulled some of this aside, lay down and covered themselves up with the stalks they had removed, and in three minutes were fast asleep, for they had had a long day's work. Hector slept until he was awakened by Paolo, who said, “The day is breaking, and the village will be astir in a few minutes.” The weather had changed, and as they stepped out fine flakes of snow were drifting through the air, and the ground was already whitened. They regained the road and walked along until they came to a wood.
“We may as well wait here and breakfast, Paolo.” The parcel was opened and found to contain a cold capon and some bread, and on these and the wine they made a capital breakfast, each taking a long sip at the bottle to the health of the colonel. “The market people are beginning to come along, and we may as well buy something from them going in. If we have not something to sell it is not unlikely that we shall be asked questions.” It was now broad daylight, and they saw several peasants pass along the road, some with baskets, others driving a pig or a goat.
“Either of these would do,” Hector said; “but we don't know where the market is, and it would never do to seem ignorant of that.” The snow had stopped suddenly some minutes before, and the sun was now shining.
“That is lucky,” Hector said as they walked down towards the road, “we may hope that there will be no more snow and that the sun will soon melt what has fallen. It would be fatal to us if the ground were white, for the most careless sentry could not help seeing us upon it.”
They reached the road just as a peasant came along. He was an old man, and was dragging behind him a pile of faggots, which were placed upon two rough poles. He was walking between these, holding two ends in his hands, while the others trailed along on the ground behind.
“Bargain with him, Paolo.”
“That is a heavy load, father,” the latter said.