"The Philistines are upon us, Peter," said he; "I have reconnoitred, and they are the gendarmes.

I'm fearful of going away, as we may stumble upon some more of them.

I've been thinking what's best before I waked you; and it appears to me, that we had better get up the tree, and lie there." At that time we were hidden in a copse of underwood, with a large oak in the centre, covered with ivy.

"I think so too, O'Brien; shall we go up now, or wait a little ?" "Now, to be sure, that they're eating their prog.

Mount you, Peter, and I'll help you." O'Brien shoved me up the tree, and then waiting a little while to bury our haversacks among the leaves, he followed me.