“Try it by yourselves!  The man is surely mad!—­but stay—­how long do you propose to be absent?”

“Probably all night.  We shall start immediately, and be back, at all events, by sunrise.”

“And will you promise me, upon your honor, that when this freak of yours is over, and the bug business (good God!) settled to your satisfaction, you will then return home and follow my advice implicitly, as that of your physician?”

“Yes; I promise; and now let us be off, for we have no time to lose.”

With a heavy heart I accompanied my friend.  We started about four o’clock—­Legrand, Jupiter, the dog, and myself.  Jupiter had with him the scythe and spades—­the whole of which he insisted upon carrying, more through fear, it seemed to me, of trusting either of the implements within reach of his master, than from any excess of industry or complaisance.  His demeanor was dogged in the extreme, and “dat d——­d bug” were the sole words which escaped his lips during the journey.  For my own part, I had charge of a couple of dark lanterns, while Legrand contented himself with the scarabaeus, which he carried attached to the end of a bit of whip-cord; twirling it to and fro, with the air of a conjurer, as he went.  When I observed this last, plain evidence of my friend’s aberration of mind, I could scarcely refrain from tears.  I thought it best, however, to humor his fancy, at least for the present, or until I could adopt some more energetic measures with a chance of success.  In the mean time I endeavored, but all in vain, to sound him in regard to the object of the expedition.  Having succeeded in inducing me to accompany him, he seemed unwilling to hold conversation upon any topic of minor importance, and to all my questions vouchsafed no other reply than “we shall see!”

We crossed the creek at the head of the island by means of a skiff, and, ascending the high grounds on the shore of the mainland, proceeded in a northwesterly direction, through a tract of country excessively wild and desolate, where no trace of a human footstep was to be seen.  Legrand led the way with decision; pausing only for an instant, here and there, to consult what appeared to be certain landmarks of his own contrivance upon a former occasion.

In this manner we journeyed for about two hours, and the sun was just setting when we entered a region infinitely more dreary than any yet seen.  It was a species of tableland, near the summit of an almost inaccessible hill, densely wooded from base to pinnacle, and interspersed with huge crags that appeared to lie loosely upon the soil, and in many cases were prevented from precipitating themselves into the valleys below merely by the support of the trees against which they reclined.  Deep ravines, in various directions, gave an air of still sterner solemnity to the scene.