"Decidedly so," grumbled Sans-Chagrin. "Here's three times we've passed the Tour St. Jacques."
"What the devil could have happened?"
"You know Lajoie?"
"Why, of course—a little insignificant man."
"It was perhaps his brother."
"He hadn't the look."
"Anyhow, I say it's time to rest."
"My legs are worn out."
"If we suggested a halt?"
"I don't dare."