the hut's door, or saunter in the shadows and the sunlight.
Not since he had come to Gaspard had a ship passed the bay or sought to
anchor in it.

But there came a day. It was the early summer. The snow had shrunk from
the ardent sun, and had swilled away to the gulf, leaving the tender
grass showing. The moss on the rocks had changed from brown to green,
and the vagrant birds had fluttered back from the south. The winter's
furs had been carried away in the early spring to the Company's post,
by a detachment of coureurs de bois. There was little left to do. This
morning they sat in the sun looking out upon the gulf. Presently Gaspard
rose and went into the hut. Pierre's eyes still lazily scanned the
water. As he looked he saw a vessel rounding a point in the distance.
Suppose this was the ship of the pirate and murderer? The fancy diverted
him. His eyes drew away from the indistinct craft--first to the reefs,
and then to that spot where the colossal needle stretched up under the
water. It was as Pierre speculated. Brigond, the French pirate, who had
hidden his gold at such shameless cost, was, after twenty years in the
galleys at Toulon, come back to find his treasure. He had doubted little
that he would find it. The lonely spot, the superstition concerning dead
bodies, the supposed doom of Gaspard, all ran in his favour. His little
craft came on, manned by as vile a mob as ever mutinied or built a
wrecker's fire.

When the ship got within a short distance of the bay, Pierre rose and
called. Gaspard came to the door. "There's work to do, pilot," he said.
Gaspard felt the thrill of his voice, and flashed a look out to the
gulf. He raised his hands with a gasp. "I feel it," he said: "it is the
hour of God!"

He started to the rope ladder of the cliff, then wheeled suddenly and
came back to Pierre. "You must not come," he said. "Stay here and watch;
you shall see great things." His voice had a round, deep tone. He caught
both Pierre's hands in his and added: "It is for my wife and child; I
have no fear. Adieu, my friend! When you see the good Pere Corraine say
to him--but no, it is no matter--there is One greater!"

Once again he caught Pierre hard by the shoulder, then ran to the cliff
and swung down the ladder. All at once there shot through Pierre's body
an impulse, and his eyes lighted with excitement. He sprang towards
the cliff. "Gaspard, come back!" he called; then paused, and, with an
enigmatical smile, shrugg