ket with
the morsels of stuff. On getting to horse again, I carefully fitted a
pebble, not too tightly, into the largest scrap, and made ready for the
attempt.

The landlord rode on my left, abreast of me; the other two knaves
behind. The road at this stage favoured me, for the valley, which
drained the bare uplands that lay between the lower hills and the base
of the real mountains, had become wide and shallow. Here were no trees,
and the path was a mere sheep-track covered with short, crisp grass, and
running sometimes on this bank of the stream and sometimes on that.

I waited until the ruffian beside me turned to speak to the men behind.
The moment he did so, and his eyes were averted, I slipped out the scrap
of satin in which I had placed the pebble, and balancing it carefully on
my right thigh as I rode, I flipped it forward with all the strength
of my thumb and finger. I meant it to fall a few paces before us in the
path, where it could be seen. But alas for my hopes! At the critical
moment my horse started, my finger struck the scrap aslant, the pebble
flew out, and the bit of stuff fluttered into a whin-bush close to my
stirrup--and was lost!

I was bitterly disappointed, for the same thing might happen again, and
I had now only three scraps left. But fortune favoured me, by putting
it into my neighbour's head to plunge into a hot debate with the
shock-headed man on the nature of some animals seen on a distant brow;
which he said were izards, while the other maintained that they were
common goats. He continued, on this account, to ride with his face
turned from me, and I had time to fit another pebble into the second
piece of stuff. Sliding it on to my thigh, I poised it, and flipped it.

This time my finger struck the tiny missile fairly in the middle, and
shot it so far and so truly that it dropped exactly in the path ten
paces in front of us. The moment I saw it fall I kicked my neighbour's
nag in the ribs; it started, and he, turning in a rage, hit it. The next
instant he pulled it almost on to its haunches.

'SAINT GRIS!' he cried; and sat glaring at the bit of yellow satin, with
his face turned purple and his jaw fallen.

'What is it!' I said, staring at him in turn, 'What is the matter,
fool?'

'Matter?' he blurted out. 'MON DIEU!'

But Clon's excitement surpassed even his. The dumb man no sooner
saw what had attracted his comrade's attention, than he uttered an
inarticulate and horrible noise,