‘All the same, if your dog goes on like that, he will come to a bad end. That is all I have to say—he will come to a bad end.’ And she stretched out her broom in an attitude of malediction towards the spot where Pritchard had disappeared.
We three stood looking at one another. ‘Well,’ said I, ‘we have lost Pritchard.’
‘We’ll soon find him,’ said Michel.
We therefore set off to find Pritchard, whistling and calling to him, as we walked on towards Vatrin’s shooting ground. This search lasted for a good half-hour, Pritchard not taking the slightest notice of our appeals. At last Michel stopped.
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘look there! Just come and look.’
‘Well, what?’ said I, going to him.
‘Look!’ said Michel, pointing. I followed the direction of Michel’s finger, and saw Pritchard in a perfectly immovable attitude, as rigid as if carved in stone.
‘Vatrin,’ said I, ‘come here.’ Vatrin came. I showed him Pritchard.
‘I think he is making a point,’ said Vatrin. Michel thought so too.
‘But what is he pointing at?’ I asked. We cautiously came nearer to Pritchard, who never stirred.