“Ah! you little scamp, you are playing sly! Tell me quick which way Gianetto went; for he’s the man we’re looking for, and I am certain he took this path.”
“Who knows?”
“Who knows? I know that you saw him.”
“Does a fellow see people pass when he’s asleep?”
“You weren’t asleep, good-for-nothing; the shots woke you.”
“Do you think, cousin, that your guns make such a great noise? My father’s carbine makes a lot more.”
“May the devil take you, you infernal rascal! I am perfectly sure you saw Gianetto. Perhaps you have hidden him even. Come, boys; go into the house, and see if our man isn’t there. He was only going on one foot, and he knows too much, the villain, to try to get to the maquis at that gait. Besides, the marks of blood stopped here.”
“What will papa say?” queried Fortunato, with a mocking laugh. “What will he say when he knows that you went into his house when he was away?”
“You good-for-nothing!” said Adjutant Gamba, taking him by the ear, “do you know that it rests with me to make you change your tune? Perhaps, if I give you twenty blows or so with the flat of my sabre, you will conclude to speak.”
But Fortunato continued to laugh sneeringly.