irst trip, and ready for another.

At the gate of the Chartreuse, Morgan paused an instant, undecided
whether to turn to the right or left. He finally turned to the right,
followed the road which leads from Bourg to Seillon for a few moments,
wheeled rapidly a second time to the right, cut across country, plunged
into an angle of the forest which was on his way, reappeared before long
on the other side, reached the main road to Pont-d'Ain, followed it for
about a mile and a half, and halted near a group of houses now called
the Maison des Gardes. One of these houses bore for sign a cluster of
holly, which indicated one of those wayside halting places where the
pedestrians quench their thirst, and rest for an instant to recover
strength before continuing the long fatiguing voyage of life. Morgan
stopped at the door, drew a pistol from its holster and rapped with the
butt end as he had done at the Chartreuse. Only as, in all probability,
the good folks at the humble tavern were far from being conspirators,
the traveller was kept waiting longer than he had been at the monastery.
At last he heard the echo of the stable boy's clumsy sabots. The gate
creaked, but the worthy man who opened it no sooner perceived the
horseman with his drawn pistol than he instinctively tried to, close it
again.

"It is I, Patout," said the young man; "don't be afraid."

"Ah! sure enough," said the peasant, "it is really you, Monsieur
Charles. I'm not afraid now; but you know, as the cure used to tell
us, in the days when there was a good God, 'Caution is the mother of
safety.'"

"Yes, Patout, yes," said the young man, slipping a piece of silver into
the stable boy's hand, "but be easy; the good God will return, and M. le
Cure also."

"Oh, as for that," said the good man, "it is easy to see that there is
no one left on high by the way things go. Will this last much longer, M.
Charles?"

"Patout, I promise, in my honor, to do my best to be rid of all that
annoys you. I am no less impatient than you; so I'll ask you not to go
to bed, my good Patout."

"Ah! You know well, monsieur, that when you come I don't often go to
bed. As for the horse--Goodness! You change them every day? The time
before last it was a chestnut, the last time a dapple-gray, now a black
one."

"Yes, I'm somewhat capricious by nature. As to the horse, as you say,
my dear Patout, he wants nothing. You need only remove his bridle; leave
him saddled. Oh, wait; put this