"This the way?"
The other nodded assent: "Keep on, we'll get there."
At length they descried the white ribbon of a road winding up the side of the low hill and vanishing in the distance into a small wood.
"There's the track," declared the Beard.
"To Dijon?"
"No, to Verrez."
"That's a good thing; now, stop and listen to me."
Loupart sat down on the grass and addressed them.
"It's been a good stroke, friends, but unfortunately it's not finished yet. They took precautions we couldn't foresee. We have only part of the fat. We share up to-morrow evening."
He was answered by growls of disappointment.