Lucien was without a shirt--for Marengo had torn it, and it was now draggled, wet, and worthless.

This was a staple joke for Francois.

Jeanette came in for a share of their badinage, as Lucien now remembered that he had tied her head within a foot of the tree, and of course she would be all this time without eating a morsel.

Moreover, in their hurry, the pack had been left upon her back; and that was not likely to improve her temper.
It was near mid-day when they came within sight of her.
"Hilloa!" exclaimed Francois, who first caught a glimpse of her round a point of timber.

"What's going on yonder ?" All three halted, and looked across the plain with astonishment depicted in their faces; and no wonder, for a sight it was to astonish anybody.
It was Jeanette, to be sure; but Jeanette in most singular attitudes.
Her heels were flying in the air--now her fore-feet, now her hind ones-- not in single flings, but in constant and rapid kicking.