will be lost! You will be devoured!'

To be devoured would be the climax of misfortune. I wished to know what
animals would be likely to stop my wayfaring in this effectual manner.

'Are there wolves?'

'No; none have been seen for years.'

'Are there boars?'

'Yes, plenty of them.'

'But boars,' I said, 'are not likely to interfere with me.'

'That is true,' replied the local wiseacre, 'so long as you keep walking;
but if you fall down a rock--ah!'

'I would not care to have you for a companion, with all your local
knowledge,' I thought, as I thanked the cobbler and turned down a very
stony path towards the Dordogne. It is always prudent to follow the advice
of those who are better informed than yourself; but it is much more
amusing--for awhile--to go your own way. I had lunched, and was prepared
to battle with the desert for several hours. It was now past mid-day,
and notwithstanding the altitude, the heat was very great. But for the
discomfort that we endure from the sun's rays we are more than amply
compensated by the pleasure that the recollection brings us in winter, when
the north wind is moaning through the sunless woods and the dreary fog
hangs over the cities. When I again reached the Dordogne there was no
longer any road, but only a rough path through high bracken, heather and