"I don't know; maybe we can," replied Phil; "anyway I'd try fair means first. And besides, Marie might remember your face, and know you again, and then she'd be extra careful not to give you a chance to steal the baby."
"I'd not thought of that," said Tad. "Well, Phil, say that we go back to old Sophie and Jacques and their people, and live with them, if they'll have us, and anyway, if Marie and the baby come or not, we'll have time to look about us and think what we'll do next."
"Yes, that's a good plan," replied Phil; "we can't do better as I knows of. But while we're talkin' of goin' back to the caravan, here we are walkin' on, and gettin' further away every minute."
"That's true; come, let's turn now and go back; but as we may chance to meet old Foxy, we'd better crawl along in the shadow of the hedge, one behind the other, and not talk at all."
This was slow progress, but the only safe course, as they proved very soon. For they heard steps approaching along the road, when they had gone a part of their return journey, and in the darkness they heard old Renard's heavy, shuffling step, and the low muttering in which—like Saul of Tarsus, before his conversion—he seemed to be breathing out threatening and slaughter, thus pleasantly beguiling the loneliness of the way. That he had other and yet more dangerous consolation too, was proved beyond all doubt; for almost opposite to the boys, as they crouched trembling under the hedge, Renard paused, and they heard a cork taken from a bottle, and then deep swallows of drink; probably the stimulant in which his soul chiefly delighted; the new and fiery cognac which is reckoned among the worst and most harmful of intoxicants.
Having drunk deeply, Foxy passed on.
But it was not until his footfall had ceased to sound upon the hard road, that the lads dared to creep from their hiding-place, and resume their journey back to the camp.
[CHAPTER XV]
TURNING THE TABLES
IT is said, and with truth, that all, or nearly all, wandering races are rich in the grace of hospitality, and these French gipsies, or rather tramps of a mixed race, had kind hearts, as Tad and Phil proved.