We had not proceeded above a mile further, when we found that our road forked, and running over an extensive ledge of rock, swept bare of snow and pine-needles by the wind, we were at a loss which path to follow, for there were no tracks of horses nor dogs, and the direction of both paths being apparently the same, the noise of the pack growing momentarily fainter, afforded us no clue to our proper course.
We reined up, impatient at this vexatious occurrence.
"Which way now?" I cried to Odile.
She hesitated for a moment.
"Let's go to the right!" she replied. "There's a new blaze on that beech-tree yonder. Perhaps one of the men's guns bruised the bark as he passed it!" and without waiting for me to reply, she started on again.
It occurred to me a few moments later that we might now be left entirely alone if, perchance, we had chosen the wrong path, and if our followers, who would inevitably meet with the same question of direction on reaching the fork in the road, should decide upon the one to the left.
I felt little apprehension in being thus deserted, as it were, but let it not be understood by this that fearlessness formed any part of my character; it was to the more ignoble trait of ignorance that my present equanimity was due. I did, however, feel that Odile should be reminded of the fact, and I proceeded to communicate it to her; but whether it was that her attention was so much engrossed by the business in hand that she had no thought for anything else, or whether she considered my apprehensions groundless, her only reply was a smile and a motion of her head, as her horse carried her away from me, which I interpreted as meant to reassure me, and I gave my horse his head.
From time to time we heard, far over on the mountainside, the sound of the woodcutter's axe, falling against the oak with measured stroke,—that slow, heavy stroke that is taken up and exaggerated by the echoes,—then the creaking of the falling tree, the shout of warning, and the thud of the giant as it measured its length upon the earth, crashing among the underbrush. Owing to the frequent windings of the woodland path, and the uncertain character of the ground, we were obliged to moderate our speed, and as we came upon the open land between the hills, the barking of the dogs reached us, loud for a moment, then faint again, as some intervening object came between us.
"You hear the dogs!" cried Odile; "we are on the right path after all!"
And as the sounds became more distinct with each moment, I was satisfied that she was right.