‘Just at the moment when you hear Portugo’s first bark.’
‘Very well, Michel, I will be with you.’
I had nearly forgotten this promise, and was writing as usual, when Michel came into my study. It was about eleven o’clock, and a fine moonlight night.
‘Hallo!’ said I, ‘Portugo hasn’t barked yet, has he?’
‘No, but I was just thinking that if you waited for that, you would miss seeing something curious.’
‘What should I miss, Michel?’
‘The council of war which is held between Pritchard and Portugo.’
I followed Michel, and sure enough, among the fourteen dogs, which were mostly sleeping in different attitudes, Portugo and Pritchard were sitting up, and seemed to be gravely debating some important question. When the debate was ended, they separated; Portugo went out at the gate to the high road, turned the corner, and disappeared, while Pritchard began deliberately, as if he had plenty of time before him, to follow the little path which led up to a stone quarry. We followed Pritchard, who took no notice of us, though he evidently knew we were there. He went up to the top of the quarry, examined and smelt about over the ground with great care, and when he had found a scent and assured himself that it was fresh, he lay down flat and waited. Almost at the same moment, Portugo’s first bark was heard some two hundred yards off. Now the plan the two dogs had laid was clear to us. The rabbits came out of their holes in the quarry every evening to go to their feeding ground; Pritchard found the scent of one; Portugo then made a wide circuit, found and chased the rabbit, and, as a rabbit or a hare always comes back upon its former track, Pritchard, lying in ambush, awaited its return. Accordingly, as the sound of Portugo’s barking came closer, we saw Pritchard’s yellow eyes light up and flame like a topaz; then all of a sudden he made a spring, and we heard a cry of fright and distress.
‘They’ve done it!’ said Michel, and he went to Pritchard, took out of his mouth a nice plump rabbit, gave it a blow behind the ears to finish it, and, opening it on the spot, gave the inside to the two dogs, who shared their portion contentedly, although they probably regretted Michel’s interference. As Michel told me, I could have eaten a stewed rabbit every day for dinner, if such had been my desire.
But after this, events of a different kind were taking place, which obliged me to leave my country pursuits, and I spent about two months in Paris. The day before I returned to St.-Germains I wrote and told Michel to expect me, and found him waiting for me on the road half way from the station.