“What did he run away for?”
“Because he knows not what is good for himself.”
“Well, if we meet the lad, we’ll tell him where to find you,” laughed one of the boys.
“No, no—ma foi, no!” cried Pierre, in alarm, as he made an emphatic gesticulation. “No, no—make not like that!”
But his only answer was another loud burst of laughter; and, singing a college refrain, the boys resumed their march, while the chauffeur, wishing that he had not spoken quite so freely, started his machine again.
The road, however, did not approach the river, and, fearing that the Colonel might return, Pierre soon turned, and within a few minutes was back at the starting point, again staring at the dark line of woods.
Suddenly he heard a sound which made him start to his feet with an exclamation of alarm.
Over the still air, from the direction of the river, came a faint call for help; and Pierre’s nerves tingled with excitement, as he strained his ears to catch a repetition.
“Ma foi! Monsieur the Colonel—I think it ees his voice!” he cried aloud, in agitated tones.
“Help!”