smouldering
sawdust. In the front the boarded roof, weighted with heavy stones,
descended to within three feet of the ground; in a corner at the right,
a kind of box, full of dried heather; a few logs of oak, an axe, a
massive bench, and other implements of toil, were lost in the shade.
A resinous odour of pine-wood impregnated the air, and the ruddy smoke
eddied through a fissure in the rock.

Whilst the good man was observing these objects, the woodman, coming out
from the mill, saw him, and cried--

"Halloo!--who is that?"

"I beg your pardon; pray pardon me," said my worthy uncle, rather
startled. "I am a traveller who has lost his way."

"Hey!" cried the other man; "good guide us! Is not that Maitre Bernard,
of Saverne? You are very welcome indeed, Maitre Bernard. Don't you know
me?"

"No, indeed! How should I in this dark night?"

"_Parbleu!_--of course not! But I am Christian; I bring you your
contraband snuff every fortnight. But come in, come in! We will soon get
a light."

They passed stooping under the little low door, and the woodman, having
lighted a pine-torch, stuck it into a split iron rod to serve as a
candlestick, and a bright light, clear and white as moonshine, filled the
hut, lighting up every corner of it.

Christian, standing in shirt-sleeves, his broad chest uncovered, and
with a pair of canvas trousers hitched up about his hips, looked a
good-natured fellow enough; his tawny beard came down in a point to his
waist; his huge bull head was covered with bristling brown hair; his
small grey eyes inspired confidence.

"Take a seat, master," he said, rolling a log of wood before the fire.
"Are you hungry?"

"Why, you know, my lad, your mountain air does excite one's appetite."

"Very well; you are just in time. I have got some very good potatoes
quite at your service."

At the mention of potatoes Uncle Bernard could not help grimacing; he
remembered, with the longing of affection, old Berbel's good suppers, and
had a difficulty in coming down to the humble realities before him.

Christian seemed to take no notice; he took five or six potatoes out of
a sack, and put them into the embers, taking care to cover them entirely;
then, sitting down on the hearthstone, he lighted his pipe.

"But just tell me, master, how is it that you are here to-night, at six
leagues' distance from Saverne, in the gorge of Nideck?"

"The gorge of Nideck!" cried my uncle Bernard, springing from his seat in