The imagination of young Lennox was alive and leaping.
He had found what seemed to him a happy solution of a knotty problem, and, as usual in such cases, his speech became fluent and golden.
"Oh, you'll enjoy it, Monsieur Achille Garay," he said in his mellow, persuasive voice.

"The forest is beautiful at this time of the year and the mountains are so magnificent always that they must appeal to anyone who has in his soul the strain of poetry that I know you have.
The snow, too, I think has gone from the higher peaks and ridges and you will not be troubled by extreme cold.

If you should wander from the path back to St.Luc you will have abundant leisure in which to find it again, because for quite a while to come time will be of no importance to you.

And as you'll go unarmed, you'll be in no danger of shooting your friends by mistake." "You're not going to turn me into the wilderness to starve ?" "Not at all.

We'll give you plenty of food.