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In an instant the others were on top of him shouting, swearing, their passion roused to such a pitch of frenzy that they were like wolves that had run down their prey. "Give me that," yelled Lapoulle, "or by G-d I'll kill you!" And he had raised his fist again when Chouteau, taking from his pocket the penknife with which he had slaughtered the horse and opening it, placed it in his hand.
And Chouteau labored with Loubet and Lapoulle to stir up bad feeling against the comrade, with the latter more particularly. Hein! wasn't he a dirty dog, if he had something to eat, not to go snacks with the comrades! He ought to have a lesson that he would remember, for his selfishness. "To-night we'll keep a watch on him, don't you see.
"No, no; let him sleep," said Jean to Chouteau, who was shaking Maurice to wake him and give him his share. "Ah," Lapoulle broke in, "we shall be at Angouleme to-morrow, and then we'll have some bread. I had a cousin in the army once, who was stationed at Angouleme. Nice garrison, that." They all looked surprised, and Chouteau exclaimed: "Angouleme what are you talking about!
They could not allow themselves to starve when there was food within reach. And it rejoiced him to see Maurice cheer up a little at the prospect of eating; he said in his easy, good-natured way: "Faith, you're wrong there; I've no ideas in my head, and if he has got to be killed without pain " "Oh! that's all one to me," interrupted Lapoulle. "I'll show you."
Two other men of the squad, Chouteau and Pache, the former stretched at length upon his back like a man who appreciates the delight of idleness, and the latter engrossed in the occupation of putting a patch on his trousers, laughed long and loud at the ridiculous expression on the face of their comrade, the brutish Lapoulle. Jean did not interfere to check their merriment.
"Thunder and ouns! Quit that, will you!" yelled Jean, "and come and answer to your name." Lapoulle rose to his feet with a dazed look on his face, then appeared to grasp the situation and yelled: "Present!" in such stentorian tones that Loubet, pretending to be upset by the concussion, sank to the ground in a sitting posture.
It was the last of his store; he had enough left for one more meal. "You dirty, sniveling priest's whelp!" roared Lapoulle, "so that is why you sneak away from us! Give me that; it's my share!" Why should he give his bread? Weak and puny as he was, his slight form dilated with anger, while he clutched the loaf against his bosom with all the strength he could master. For he also was hungry.
He was usually quite willing to take charge of the mess arrangements, and no one was inclined to say him nay, for he cooked like an angel. On those occasions, however, Lapoulle would be given the most extraordinary commissions to execute. "Go and look after the champagne Go out and buy some truffles "
And by way of encouragement he bestowed a kick on Lapoulle, a colossus of a man, who was on his knees puffing away with might and main, his cheeks distended till they were like wine-skins, his face red and swollen, and his eyes starting from their orbits and streaming with tears.
Jean beheld a circle of expectant eyes bent on him; the squad had been waiting for him with anxiety, Pache and Lapoulle in particular, luckless dogs, who had found nothing they could appropriate; they all relied on him, who, as they expressed it, could get bread out of a stone.
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