I
come closer and closer to the light, and then I see a dreadful thing.
There was the captain and the mate, and another. They turn quick upon
two other men--two sailors--and kill them. Then they take the bodies
and wound them round some casks in a great hole, and cover it all up. I
understan'. It is the old legend that a dead body will keep gold all to
itself, so that no one shall find it. Mon Dieu!"--his voice dropped low
and shook in his throat--"I give one little cry at the sight, and then
they see me. There were three. They were armed; they sprang upon me and
tied me. Then they fling me beside the fire, and they cover up the hole
with the gold and the bodies.

"When that was done they take me back to the ship, then with pistols at
my head they make me pilot the ship out into the bay again. As we went
they make a chart of the place. We travel along the coast for one day;
and then a great storm of snow come, and the captain say to me: 'Steer
us into harbour.' When we are at anchor, they take me and my wife, and
little child and put us ashore alone, with a storm and the bare rocks
and the dreadful night, and leave us there, that we shall never tell the
secret of the gold. That night my wife and my child die in the snow."

Here his voice became strained and slow. "After a long time I work my
way to an Injin camp. For months I was a child in strength, all my flesh
gone. When the spring come I went and dug a deeper grave for my wife,
and p'tite Babette, and leave them there, where they had died. But I
come to the bay of Belle Amour, because I knew some day the man with
the devil's heart would come back for his gold, and then would arrive my
time--the hour of God!"

He paused. "The hour of God," he repeated slowly. "I have waited twenty
years, but he has not come; yet I know that he will come. I feel it
here"--he touched his forehead; "I know it here"--he tapped his heart.
"Once where my heart was, there is only one thing, and it is hate, and I
know--I know--that he will come. And when he comes--" He raised his arm
high above his head, laughed wildly, paused, let the hand drop, and then
fell to staring into the fire.

Pierre again placed the flask of rum between his fingers. But Gaspard
put it down, caught his arms together across his breast, and never
turned his face from the fire. Midnight came, and still they sat there
silent. No man had a greater gift in waiting than Pierre. Many a time
his life had been a swivel,