"Head-winds all the way from Ushant," replied the boy. "But let us go on, Jargeau, for we must be far from the town, and time enough has been lost already."
"Well, come down to the cottage," said the other, in a musing sort of tone. "You want something to refresh you while the horses are being saddled. Here; let me carry your bags." And as he spoke he laid his hand upon one of the large leather-covered cases.
"Not that one," said the boy, sharply, pushing away his hand: "here; you may take this." The man laughed, saying, "Ay, as sharp as ever!" and they descended to the pines, where the light still glimmered behind one of the few remaining panes of glass in the window of a dilapidated cottage, on the leeward side of which stood three horses, tethered but without their saddles.
The interior of the building offered no very cheerful aspect; but, seeing that the boy had not eaten any thing for the last twelve hours, that he was weary, wet, and cold, the sight of a very tolerable supply of viands on the floor,—for there was furniture of no kind within,—and a large black bottle fitted to hold at least a gallon, was very consolatory.
The only other objects which the cottage contained were the rosin candle fixed into a split log, and a lean but apparently strong man of perhaps forty, whose face had evidently had at least a ten years' intimacy with the brandy-flask. He was stretched out at length upon the ground, but with his head and arm within reach of the viands and bottle; and though, in answer to some observations of his comrade of the watch, he swore manfully that he had touched neither, yet he wiped his mouth upon the sleeve of his coat, as if he felt that something might be clinging to his lips which would contradict him.
"Ah, Master Ned!" he exclaimed, in French, but without moving from where he lay, "I am right glad you have come, for my throat is as dry as an ear of rye, and Jargeau there would not have the cold meat touched nor the bottle broached till you came."
"By the Lord, you have broached it, though!" exclaimed the other, who had been stooping down: "the neck is quite wet, you vagabond; and, if we did not need you, I would give you a touch of my knife for disobeying my orders. But come, Master Ned, sit down on the floor and eat. There is enough left in the bottle for you, at all events; and, on my soul, he shall not have another drop till both you and I have finished."
The other man only laughed, and the boy applied himself to the food with a good will. When he had eaten silently for some ten minutes, he stretched out his hand, saying, "Give me the bottle, Jargeau: I will have one draught of wine, and then I am ready. Pierrot, get up and put the saddles on the horses."
"No wine will you get here," replied Jargeau; "but this is better for you, wet as you are,—as good eau-de-vie as ever came from Tonnay Charente. Take a good drink: you will need it."
"Get up and saddle the horses," said the boy before he drank, addressing somewhat sharply the lean gentleman on the ground. "Have you forgotten St. Martin's, good Pierrot?"