"For what purpose?" L'Olonnais said, with a laugh. "Do not trouble yourself about him, my gentleman: he is a long way off if he is still running. Each of us has his work cut out for him."
"I don't care!" Lepoletais remarked. "You had a deuced fine scent, Señor, in responding to our invitation so quickly!"
"Why so?"
"You will soon know. But now take my advice—recruit your strength by eating."
At this moment Doña Clara rejoined the party. Her demeanour was firmer, and her face almost gay.
The table was soon laid—leaves serving for plates. They sat down to it, that is to say, they formed a circle on the ground, and bravely assailed the provisions.
Don Sancho had resumed all his gaiety. This life appeared to him delightful, and he laughed heartily, while eating with a good appetite. Doña Clara herself, in spite of her inward preoccupation, did honour to this improvised banquet.
"Up! my darlings," Lepoletais had said to his dogs. "Tally ho! No idleness, but go and watch the approaches while we are breakfasting. Your share shall be kept."
The dogs had risen with admirable obedience, and turning their backs on the boucans, scattered in all directions, and speedily disappeared.
"Yours are first-rate dogs," said Don Sancho.