And how far is it to Bonvilette?"

"_Eh ben!_ One must go by the little train to Nivelle," explained
Monsieur le Maire, "and from Nivelle to Bonvilette there lies a good
twenty kilometres for a horse. Let us say he will be back in three
days."

"And the mass meanwhile?" I ventured.

"_Mon Dieu!_ What will you have? The roses of his old friend are sick.
It is the duty of a cure to tend the sick. Besides----"

Here Monsieur le Maire leaned forward within reach of my ear, and I
caught in whispers something relative to a chateau and one of the best
cellars of Bordeaux in France.

"Naturally," I replied, with a wink, and again my eyes reverted to the
prize bull. It is not wise to raise one's voice in so small a village as
Pont du Sable, even indoors.

"A pretty beast!" affirmed the mayor, noticing my continued interest in
live stock. "And let me tell you that I took him to England in
'eighty-two. _Ah, mais oui! Helas! Helas!_ What a trip!" he sighed.
"Monsieur Toupinet--he that has the big farm at Saint Philippe--and I
sailed together the third of October, in 1882, with forty steers. Our
ship was called _The Souvenir_, and I want to tell you, my friend, it
wasn't gay, that voyage. _Ah, mais non!_ Toupinet was sea-sick--I was
sea-sick--the steers were sea-sick--all except that _sacre_ brute up
there, and he roared all the way from Calais to London. _Eh ben!_ And
would you believe it?" At the approaching statement Monsieur le Maire's
countenance assumed a look of righteous indignation. He raised his fist
and brought it down savagely on the table as he declared: "Would you
believe it? We were _thirty-four hours_ without eating and _twenty-nine
hours, mon Dieu!_ without drinking!"

I looked up in pained astonishment.

"And that wasn't all," continued the mayor. "A hurricane struck us three
hours out, and we rolled all night in a dog's sea. The steers were up to
their bellies in water. Aye, but she did blow, and _The Souvenir_ had
all she could do to keep afloat. The captain was lashed to the bridge
all night and most of the next day. Neither Toupinet nor myself ever
expected to see land again, and there we were like calves in a pen on
the floor of the cabin full of tobacco-smoke and English, and not a word
of English could we speak except 'yes' and 'good morning.'" Here
Monsieur le Maire stopped and choked. Finally he dried his eyes on the
sleeve of his blouse, for he was wheezing with laughter, took a sip from
his gla