Rather it adds to them. There are our enemies, the French,
who are as brave and enduring as anybody, and yet they're the best
cooks in the world, and more particular about their food than any
other nation."
"You always speak of the French with a kind of affection, Dave," said
Robert.
"I suppose I do," said the hunter. "I have reasons."
"As I know now, Dave, you've been in Paris, can't you tell us
something about the city?"
"It's the finest town in the world, Robert, and they've the brightest,
gayest life there, at least a part of 'em have, but things are not
going right at home with the French. They say a whole nation's fortune
has been sunk in the palace at Versailles, and the people are growing
poorer all the time, but the government hopes to dazzle 'em by waging
a successful and brilliant war over here. I repeat, though, Robert,
that I like the French. A great nation, sound at the core, splendid
soldiers as we're seeing, and as we're likely to see for a long time
to come."
They pushed on with all speed toward Mount Johnson, the weather still
favoring them, making their last camp in a fine oak grove, and
reckoning that they would achieve their journey's end before noon the
next day.
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