'Well, what?' said I, going to him.
'Look!' said Michel, pointing. I followed the direction of Michel's finger, and saw Pritchard in a perfectly immovable attitude, as rigid as if carved in stone.
'Vatrin,' said I, 'come here.' Vatrincame. I showed him Pritchard.
'I think he is making a point,' said Vatrin. Michel thought so too.
'But what is he pointing at?' I asked. We cautiously came nearer to Pritchard, who never stirred.
'He certainly is pointing,' said Vatrin. Then making a sign to me—'Look there!' he said. ' Do you see anything? '
'Nothing.'
'What! you don't see a rabbit sitting? If I only had my stick, I'd knock it on the head, and it would make a nice stew for your dinner.'
'Oh!' said Michel, 'if that's all, I'll cut you a stick.'
'Well, but Pritchard might leave off pointing.'
'No fear of him—I'll answer for him—unless, indeed, the rabbit goes away.'
Vatrin proceeded to cut a stick. Pritchard never moved, only from time to time he turned his yellow eyes upon us, which shone like a topaz.
'Have patience,' said Michel. 'Can't you see that M. Vatrin is cutting a stick?' And Pritchard seemed to understand as he turned his eye on Vatrin.
'You have still time to take off the branches,' said Michel.
When the branches were taken off and the stick was quite finished, Vatrin approached cautiously, took a good aim, and struck with all his might into the middle of the tuft of grass where the rabbit was sitting. He had killed it!
Pritchard darted in upon the rabbit, but Vatrin took it from him, and Michel slipped it into the lining of his coat.
