ters that go in and about the Sierras. For
that it is the custom to have two, three goats with the flocks to go
first across the water, then they will follow. But here at Crevecoeur it
is bad crossing any way you go; also that day it is already afternoon.
Therefore I stand at one side that ford and make talk with Filon at the
other about who goes first. Then my goat which leads my flock come push
by me and I stand on that log while we talk. He is one smart goat.

"Eh, Raoul, let the goats decide," cries Filon, and to that I have
agree. Filon push his goat on the log, he is one great black one that is
call Diable--I ask you is that a name for a goat? I have call mine Noe.
So they two walk on that log very still; for they see what they have to
do. Then they push with the head, Diable and Noe, till that log it rock
in the water; Filon is cry to his goat and I to mine. Then because of
that water one goat slip on the log, and the other is push so hard that
he cannot stop; over they go into the pool of swift water, over and over
until they come to the shallows; then they find their feet and come up,
each on his own side. They will not care to push with the heads again at
that time. Filon he walk out on the log to me, and I walk to him.

"My goat have won the ford," says he.

"Your goat cannot keep what he wins."

"But I can," say Filon. Then he look at me with his eyes like--like I
have told you, M'siu.

"Raoul," he say, "you is one little man."

With that I remember me all the wrong I have had from this one.

"Go you after your goat, Filon Geraud," say I.

With that I put my staff behind his foot, so, M'siu, and send him into
the water, splash! He come to his feet presently in the pool with the
water all in his hair and his eyes, and the stream run strong and dark
against his middle.

"Hey, you, Raoul, what for you do that?" he say, but also he laugh. "Ah,
ha, little man, you have the joke this time."

M'siu, that laugh stop on his face like it been freeze, his mouth is
open, his eyes curl up. It is terrible, that dead laugh in the midst of
the black water that run down from his hair.

"Raoul," he say, "_the sand is quick_!"

Then he take one step, and I hear the sand suck. I see Filon shiver like
a reed in the swift water.

"_My God_," he say, "_the sand is quick_!"

M'siu, I do not know how it is with me. When I throw Filon in the pool,
I have not known it is quick-sand; but when I hear that, I think I am