his way untroubled by his old and faithful friend, whom he
left hanging to the limb of a tree.

He was following the same path that he traversed daily to and from the
mill, and which soon brought him out into the level with its soft
tufted grass and clumps of squat thorn trees. There was no longer the
protecting wood to screen him; but of such there was no need, for the
darkness hung about him like the magic mantle of story. Nearing the
mill he grew cautious, creeping along with the tread of a stealthy
beast, and halting at intervals to listen for sounds that he wished
not to hear. He knew there was no one on guard tonight. A movement in
the bushes near by, made him fall quick and sprawling to earth. It was
only Gregoire's horse munching the soft grass. Jocint drew near and
laid his hand on the horse's back. It was hot and reeking with sweat.
Here was a fact to make him more wary. Horses were not found in such
condition from quietly grazing of a cool autumn night. He seated
himself upon the ground, with his hands clasped about his knees, all
doubled up in a little heap, and waited there with the patience of the
savage, letting an hour go by, whilst he made no movement.

The hour past, he stole towards the mill, and began his work of
sprinkling the contents of his pail here and there along the dry
timbers at well calculated distances, with care that no drop should be
lost. Then, he drew together a great heap of crisp shavings and
slathers, plentifully besprinkling it with what remained in the can.
When he had struck a match against his rough trousers and placed it
carefully in the midst of this small pyramid, he found that he had
done his work but too surely. The quick flame sprang into life,
seizing at once all it could reach. Leaping over intervals; effacing
the darkness that had shrouded him; seeming to mock him as a fool and
point him out as a target for heaven and earth to hurl destruction at
if they would. Where should he hide himself? He only thought now of
how he might have done the deed differently, and with safety to
himself. He stood with great beams and loose planks surrounding him;
quaking with a premonition of evil. He wanted to fly in one direction;
then thought it best to follow the opposite; but a force outside of
himself seemed to hold him fast to one spot. When turning suddenly
about, he knew it was too late, he felt that all was lost, for there
was Gregoire, not twenty paces away--covering him with