"Get the guns ready!" shouted everybody.
The Assessor kept calling: "Lead, lead! I have a bullet mould in my game bag."
"Tell the parish priest," added the Judge, "to serve mass early to-morrow in the forest chapel; a very short offertory for hunters, the usual mass of St. Hubert."
After the orders had been given a silence followed. All were deep in thought and cast their eyes around as if looking for some one; slowly the Seneschal's venerable face attracted and united all eyes. This was a sign that they were seeking a leader for their future expedition and that they offered the staff of office to the Seneschal. The Seneschal rose, understood the will of his comrades, and, rapping impressively on the table, he drew from his bosom a golden chain, on which hung a watch large as a pear.
"To-morrow," he said, "at half past four, the gentlemen hunters and the beaters will present themselves at the forest chapel."
He spoke, and moved from the table; after him went the Forester. These two had to plan and arrange the chase.
Even so act generals, when they ordain a battle for the morrow—the soldiers throughout the camp clean their arms and eat, or sleep on cloaks or saddles, free from care, but the generals consult within the quiet tent.
Dinner was interrupted, the day passed in the shoeing of horses, the feeding of dogs, the gathering and cleaning of arms; at supper hardly any one came to the table. Even the faction of Bobtail ceased to be agitated by its long and weighty quarrel with the party of Falcon; the Notary and the Assessor went arm in arm to look for
