“Certainly I did,” was the reply. “I could not help seeing them, unless I had been blind.”
“Well and did you think they resembled feathered arrows when they were flying?”
“Not in the least.”
“Not a bit,” added Robert.
“I was sure of it,” said the geographer, with a satisfied air; “and yet the very proudest of modest men, my illustrious countryman, Chateaubriand, made the inaccurate comparison. Oh, Robert, comparison is the most dangerous figure in rhetoric that I know. Mind you avoid it all your life, and only employ it in a last extremity.”
“Are you satisfied with your experiment?” asked McNabbs.
“Delighted.”
“And so am I. But we had better push on now, for your illustrious Chateaubriand has put us more than a mile behind.”
On rejoining their companions, they found Glenarvan busily engaged in conversation with the Indian, though apparently unable to make him understand. Thalcave’s gaze was fixed intently on the horizon, and his face wore a puzzled expression.
The moment Paganel came in sight, Glenarvan called out: