We set out, myself and Tripault mounted, the others afoot, with several
horses bearing provisions and supplies. Marching at night, and concealing
ourselves in the forests by day, we at last reached the mountains that
form part of the southern boundary of Berry. They were thickly wooded,
and though the month of August made them a series of masses of deep
green, they presented a sombre aspect.
"It is somewhere up there," I said, pointing toward the still and
frowning hills before us, "that we are to find a burrow, from which to
issue forth, now and then, to the plains on the other side."
"The only man in the company who knows this country," replied my devoted
squire, Blaise Tripault, "is Frojac, but he makes up for the ignorance of
the others by knowing it very well. He can lead us to the most deserted
spot among these mountains, where there is an abandoned chateau, which is
said to be under a curse."
"If part of it is under a roof as well, so much the better," I answered.
"Bring Frojac to me."
Blaise rode back along the irregular line formed by my rude soldiers,
picked out an intelligent looking young arquebusier, and led him forward
to me. I made this man, Frojac, our guide.
After toilsome marches, forcing our way up wooded ascents devoid of human
habitation, and through almost impenetrable thickets of brushwood, we
crossed the highest ridge of the mountain chain, and from a bare spot, a
natural clearing, gazed down on the Creuse, which wound along the line
formed by the northern base of the mountains.
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