homilies upon the
sinfulness of pride and free living, Messer Hugolin came to the point;
he offered to take Constans into his employ as an apprentice in the
tannery. Of course, Constans would have no wages until his indenture was
out, but he would, at least, be assured of lodging, food, and clothes,
the bare necessities of existence. Not an especially attractive
proposition, but Constans, after a short consideration, concluded to
accept it. He had a purpose in remaining here in Croye, almost within
sight of Doom the Forbidden; he had not forgotten that therein dwelt one
Quinton Edge.

And now a new life began for the boy, and a hard one. Lodged in a corner
of the garret, clad in the meanest garments, fed on the coarsest fare,
his lot was little better than that of the actual serf, and in some
respects inferior to it, for it was good policy to treat the slave with
some decency and so secure a full life's work from the human machine.
Constans, on the other hand, was bound for four years only, and it was
policy to drive him at full speed.

Messer Hugolin's business was of a general nature. He bought and sold
everything in the way of raw product and finished goods, but cloth and
leather formed the staple of his trade. The latter he manufactured
himself, and his tannery was the largest in Croye. It occupied extensive
yards along the river-front, and Constans entered upon the agreeable
occupation of unloading stinking hides from the barges which came down
from the upper river twice in the week, a routine varied only by long
hours of pounding at interminable lengths of white-oak bark, preparing
it for use in the tan-pits. Hard, dirty, malodorous work it was, but he
kept at it steadily, his purpose always in view.

Little by little his plans had been taking shape, and now at last he had
arrived at something definite. A secret, of course, and fortunately
opportunity had been given him in which to develop his idea. To explain
more particularly:

On ordinary days the working-hours were from dawn to dark, but Sunday
was his own, save for the hour immediately following sunrise and that
preceding sunset, when everybody was required to attend upon public
worship.

Every Sunday, then, Constans made his way through the town barriers
immediately upon their unclosing, and betook himself to a wooded
river-cove about a mile south of the town. For three months he had been
working on a canoe, shaping it with fire and adze from a poplar