pain, that was over
for the moment, and that being over, left his mind free to return to
the delicious consciousness, that he had needed to be reminded of,
that Therese loved him after all. When his measured tread upon the
veranda finally ceased to mark the passing hours, a quiet that was
almost pulseless fell upon the plantation. Place-du-Bois slept.
Perhaps the only night in the year that some or other of the negroes
did not lurk in fence corners, or make exchange of nocturnal visits.

But out in the hills there was no such unearthly stillness reigning.
Those restless wood-dwellers, that never sleep, were sending startling
gruesome calls to each other. Bats were flapping and whirling and
darting hither and thither; the gliding serpent making quick rustle
amid the dry, crisp leaves, and over all sounded the murmur of the
great pine trees, telling their mystic secrets to the night.

A human creature was there too, feeling a close fellowship with these
spirits of night and darkness; with no more fear in his heart than the
unheeded serpent crossing his path. Every inch of the ground he knew.
He wanted no daylight to guide him. Had his eyes been blinded he would
no doubt have bent his body close to earth and scented his way along
like the human hound that he was. Over his shoulder hung the polished
rifle that sent dull and sudden gleamings into the dark. A large tin
pail swung from his hand. He was very careful of this pail--or its
contents, for he feared to lose a drop. And when he accidentally
struck an intervening tree and spilled some upon the ground, he
muttered a curse against his own awkwardness.

Twice since leaving his cabin up in the clearing, he had turned to
drive back his yellow skulking dog that followed him. Each time the
brute had fled in abject terror, only to come creeping again into his
master's footsteps, when he thought himself forgotten. Here was a
companion whom neither Jocint nor his mission required. Exasperated,
he seated himself on a fallen tree and whistled softly. The dog, who
had been holding back, dashed to his side, trembling with eagerness,
and striving to twist his head around to lick the hand that patted
him. Jocint's other hand glided quickly into his pocket, from which he
drew forth a coil of thin rope that he flung deftly over the animal's
head, drawing it close and tight about the homely, shaggy throat. So
quickly was the action done, that no sound was uttered, and Jocint
continued