"I see it all now," exclaimed the invalid, "you two have starved yourselves that I might live."
"Shucks, captain, don't put it that way: the rations were yours in the first place, and, besides, look at the glorious feast we're all going to have."
Henri's attempt to lightly pass the soldier's revolt against the self-denial practiced by Schneider and himself resulted only in the invalid turning face downward on the nearly empty knapsack, his emotion shown by convulsive movement between the shoulders.
Schneider, wise unto himself, had kept out of the discussion, and had practically contributed to the settlement of the hunger question by neatly skinning and cleaning the hare meat.
A hasty fire of dried moss and twigs and Schneider's big knife utilized as a spit raised a savory odor in the cave, and the picking of one set of bones that evening helped a lot to revive courage and hope. The captain, "by the doctor's orders," was compelled to accept his share.
The other hare made the breakfast for the third day out. Schneider alleged that he had a hunch that this rabbit business had turned the scale of luck, and to insure the belief he carefully pocketed the left hind foot of one of the animals.
During the morning the pedestrians, rested and fed, moved in fine style for the first few miles, Schneider stoutly holding to the efficacy of a rabbit's foot as a luck producer.
At the foot of the summit finally cutting off the level over which the party had been so long traveling, it was in order to do some climbing.
"It will give us a chance to look around," cheerfully observed Henri, "and which chance isn't coming to us down here."
Halfway up the height the boy was again heard from. He insisted that he had seen a flock of eagles in the western sky.