Another represented the unfortunate king, headless, with the legend,—
"Louis cranchant (i.e. spitting) dans le sac," a brutal phrase, as his head was supposed to be in the bag attached to the platform of the guillotine. Several runlets of wine were trundled into this apartment and broached. We found also plenty of yams and plaintains in a pantry, together with squash and Guinea fowls, ready cooked; thus showing that the last occupants had fled at our approach.
"Light dinner sherry," said one, draining his canteen nearly at a draught.
"Often denominated 'curious,'" added Bruce, with a wink.
"And very curious, you may find it to-morrow morning," said Haystone.
"A little brandy may keep it right," said the earl; and holding aloft his canteen, exclaimed, "To the health of the first men who get into St. Pierre!"
"Here's some port of the finest quality," said one of our captains, pulling a spiggot from a cask.
"Hark to Kinlochmoidart; he talks like an auctioneer. But, my dear fellow, I don't care a fig about the quality."
"What then, Glendonwyn?"
"The quantity—the quantity is the thing one studies most on the line of march."