oes this 'hum' mean?" demanded Roland.

"Confound it."

"Come, explain yourselves. What's the matter?"

"The matter is that we'd rather that it was the other end of the
forest."

"But why the other end?" retorted Roland, impatiently; "it's nine miles
from here to the other end, and barely three from here to where we left
the boar."

"Yes," said the first peasant, "but just where the boar lies--" And he
paused and scratched his head.

"Exactly; that's what," added the other.

"Just what?"

"It's a little too near the Chartreuse."

"Not the Chartreuse; I said the pavilion."

"It's all the same. You know, Monsieur Louis, that there is an
underground passage leading from the pavilion to the Chartreuse."

"Oh, yes, there is one, that's sure," added the other.

"But," exclaimed Roland, "what has this underground passage got to do
with our boar?"

"This much, that the beast's in a bad place, that's all."

"Oh, yes! a bad place," repeated the other peasant.

"Come, now, explain yourselves, you rascals," said Roland, who was
growing angry, while his mother seemed uneasy, and Amelie visibly turned
pale.

"Beg pardon, Monsieur Louis," answered the peasant; "we are not rascals;
we're God-fearing men, that's all."

"By thunder," cried Roland, "I'm a God-fearing man myself. What of
that?"

"Well, we don't care to have any dealings with the devil."

"No, no, no," asserted the second peasant.

"A man can match a man if he's of his own kind," continued the first
peasant.

"Sometimes two," said the second, who was built like a Hercules.

"But with ghostly beings phantoms, spectres--no thank you," continued
the first peasant.

"No, thank you," repeated the other.

"Oh, mother, sister," queried Roland, addressing the two women, "in
Heaven's name, do you understand anything of what these two fools are
saying?"

"Fools," repeated the first peasant; "well, possibly. But it's not the
less true that Pierre Marey had his neck twisted just for looking over
the wall. True, it was of a Saturday--the devil's sabbath."

"And they couldn't straighten it out," affirmed the second peasant, "so
they had to bury him with his face turned round looking the other way.

"Oh!" exclaimed Sir John, "this is growing interesting. I'm very fond of
ghost stories."

"That's more than sister Amelie is it seems," cried Edouard.

"What do you mean?"

"Just see how pale she's grown, brother Roland."

"Yes, indeed," said Sir John