"Can you make anything of all that?" Bertrand asked his wife.
"They said something about a big beast, goodman."
"Morgué! there's only us in the house; how could it get in? Perhaps it's neighbor Gervais's bull, or Dame Catherine's donkey."
"No, papa, no; it's all gray and red. Oh! it's awful-looking!"
"The devil! what does it mean?"
"Has it got any tail?" inquired Claudine.
"I don't know 'bout that, mamma; he looked as if he was asleep, and we ran right away."
"You must go and see what it is, goodman."
"Yes, yes; I must go and see."
But Bertrand, who was not naturally brave, had already begun to quake, and, as a matter of prudence, went to get his gun, which was loaded with salt. Claudine took a broom, the children seized sticks, and they marched toward the shed. The little ones went first, because at that age, although frightened, a child delights in anything out of the ordinary, and the slightest event is a pleasure. Bertrand walked beside his wife, who kept pushing him to make him go ahead. The nearer they came to the shed, the more slowly they walked; they had ordered the children to make no noise, because it was better to view the beast asleep than awake.