“But my child!” cried Mrs. Weldon.  “The care that I hoped to find for him at the farm of San Felice—­”

“Jack will get well,” said old Tom, “when he approaches the more healthy part of the coast.”

“Dick,” remarked Mrs. Weldon, “you are sure that this Harris has betrayed us?”

“Yes, Mrs. Weldon,” replied the young novice, who would have liked to avoid any explanation on this subject.

He also hastened to add, while looking at the old black: 

“This very night Tom and I discovered his treason, and if he had not jumped on his horse and fled, I would have killed him.”

“So this farm—­”

“There is neither farm, nor village, nor settlement in the neighborhood,” replied Dick Sand.  “Mrs. Weldon, I repeat to you, we must return to the coast.”

“By the same road, Dick?”

“No, Mrs. Weldon, but by descending a river which will take us to the sea without fatigue and without danger.  A few more miles on foot, and I do not doubt—­”

“Oh, I am strong, Dick!” replied Mrs. Weldon, who struggled against her own weakness.  “I will walk!  I will carry my child!”

“We are here, Mrs. Weldon,” said Bat, “and we will carry you!”

“Yes. yes,” added Austin.  “Two branches of a tree, foliage laid across.”

“Thanks, my friends,” replied Mrs. Weldon; “but I want to march.  I will march.  Forward!”

“Forward!” exclaimed the young novice.

“Give me Jack,” said Hercules, who took the child from Nan’s arms.  “When I am not carrying something, I am tired.”

The brave negro gently took in his strong arms the little sleeping boy, who did not even wake.

Their arms were carefully examined.  What remained of the provisions was placed in one package, so as to be carried by one man.  Austin threw it on his back, and his companions thus became free in their movements.

Cousin Benedict, whose long limbs were like steel and defied all fatigue, was ready to set out.  Had he remarked Harris’s disappearance?  It would be imprudent to affirm it.  Little disturbed him.  Besides, he was under the effects of one of the most terrible catastrophes that could befall him.

In fact, a grave complication, Cousin Benedict had lost his magnifying-glass and his spectacles.  Very happily, also, but without his suspecting it, Bat had found the two precious articles in the tall grass where they had slept, but, by Dick Sand’s advice, he kept them safely.  By this means they would be sure that the big child would keep quiet during the march, because he could see no farther, as they say, than the end of his nose.

Thus, placed between Acteon and Austin, with the formal injunction not to leave them, the woful Benedict uttered no complaint, but followed in his place, like a blind man led by a string.

The little party had not gone fifty steps when old Tom suddenly stopped it with one word.