ette, to surround
him with loneliness. The very effort he made to be defiant of his fate
appeared to make him still more solitary. All at once he thrust a hand
inside his red shirt, and, giving a jerk which broke a string tied round
his neck, he drew forth a little pad--a flat bag of silk, called an
Agnus Dei, worn as a protection and a blessing by the pious, and threw
it on the ground. Another little parcel he drew from his belt, and
ground it into the dirt with his heel. It contained a woman's hair.
Then, muttering, his hands still twitching with savage feeling, he
picked up his cap, covered with dirt, put it on, and passed away down
the road towards the river, the little bell tinkling as he went. Those
who heard it had a strange feeling, for already to them the man was as
if he had some baleful disease, and this little bell told of the passing
of a leper.

Yet some one man had worn just such a bell every year in Pontiac. It was
the mark of honour conferred upon a voyageur by his fellows, the token
of his prowess and his skill. This year Luc Pomfrette had won it, and
that very day it had been buckled round his leg with songs and toasts.

For hours Pomfrette walked incessantly up and down the river-bank,
muttering and gesticulating, but at last came quietly to the cottage
which he shared with Henri Beauvin. Henri had removed himself and his
belongings: already the ostracising had begun. He went to the bedroom
of old Mme. Burgoyne, his cousin; she also was gone. He went to a little
outhouse and called.

For reply there was a scratching at the door. He opened it, and a dog
leaped out and upon him. With a fierce fondness he snatched at the dog's
collar, and drew the shaggy head to his knee; then as suddenly shoved
him away with a smothered oath, and going into the house, shut the door.
He sat down in a chair in the middle of the room, and scarcely stirred
for half an-hour. At last, with a passionate jerk of the head, he got to
his feet, looking about the room in a half-distracted way. Outside, the
dog kept running round and round the house, silent, watchful, waiting
for the door to open.

As time went by, Luc became quieter, but the look of his face was more
desolate. At last he almost ran to the door, threw it open, and called.
The dog sprang into the room, went straight to the fireplace, lay
down, and with tongue lolling and body panting looked at Pomfrette with
blinking, uncomprehending eyes.

Pomfrette went to a