All of a sudden, just as the hounds, that were crying in concert in a way which more and more delighted the Baron’s ears, were passing under the tree where Thibault was perched, the whole pack came to a standstill, and every tongue was silenced as by enchantment. Marcotte, at his master’s command, dismounted to see if he could find any traces of the deer, the whippers-in ran up, and they and Marcotte looked about, but they could find nothing.
Then Engoulevent, who had set his heart on a view-halloo being sounded for the animal he had tracked down, joined the others, and he too began to search. Everyone was searching, calling out and trying to rouse the dogs, when above all the other voices, was heard, like the blast of a tempest, the voice of the Baron.
“Ten thousand devils!” he thundered.
“Have the dogs fallen into a pit-hole, Marcotte?”
“No, my Lord, they are here, but they are come to a check.”
“How! come to a standstill!” exclaimed the Baron.
“What is to be done, my Lord? I cannot understand what has happened, but such is the fact.”
“Come to a check!” again exclaimed the Baron, “come to a standstill, here, in the middle of the forest, here where there is no stream where the animal could have doubled, or rock for it to climb. You must be out of your mind, Marcotte!”
“I, out of my mind, my Lord?”
“Yes, you, you fool, as truly as your dogs are all worthless trash!”