“I know,” cried Saxe.
“You know, herr?”
“Yes; of course, he has been trying to find enough to eat amongst these stones, and there is scarcely anything. He is hungry, and crying out for supper.”
“Oh no, herr. I showed him where he could find plenty of green shoots, and I gave him half a loaf of black bread as well before we had our meal.”
“Then he wants kicking for waking us up like this.”
“No, herr,” said the guide drily; “and it is bad work to kick Gros. He is a very clever animal, and can kick much harder than a man. I remember Pierre kicking him once, and he kicked back and nearly broke the man’s leg.”
“Then don’t kick him. But what is the matter with him?”
“I cannot tell you, herr, unless some one has been here since we lay down to sleep.”
“But, surely, Melchior, if any one came he would have seen the tent and spoken.”
“Yes, herr, one would think so, for out in the mountains here we are all friends. We should have given him to eat and drink just as we should have expected it if we came upon a camp.”