All pulled up their horses and listened; but heard nothing more, and rode on again, till, just as they were beginning to ascend a little rise where the snow had been drifted off the road, and the horses' hoofs rang clear upon the hard ground, a loud shout was heard upon the left.
"Halloo, halloo! who goes there?" cried a I voice some fifty or sixty yards distant. "Give us some help here. We have got into a quagmire, and know not which way to turn."
"For Heaven's sake, don't go, sir," cried Martin Grille. "It's a new trick of the devil, depend upon it, as Monsieur Chauvin says."
"Pooh, nonsense," replied Jean Charost; and then raising his voice, he cried, "Who is it that calls?"
"What signifies that," cried a stern voice.
"If you are Christians, come and help us. If you are not, jog on your way, and the devil seize you."
"Well, call again as we come, to guide us to you," said Jean Charost, "for there is no need of us getting into the quagmire too."
"Let me go first, sir, and sound the way," said the courier.
"Halloo, halloo!" cried two or three voices, as a signal; and, following the sound, Jean Charost and the courier, with Martin Grille a good way behind, proceeded slowly and cautiously toward the party of unfortunate travelers, till at length they could descry something like a group of men and horses among the willows, about twenty yards distant. It is true, some of the horses seemed to have no legs, or to be lying down, and one man dismounted, holding hard by a willow.
"Keep up, keep up--we are coming to you," replied Jean Charost. "It is firm enough here, if you could but reach us."