er apron.

"First a haythen and then a quarther-brade," he tallied against his
countryman. "He will be takin' his quarther-brade to the praste before
the boats go gut?"

Leon raised fat eyebrows. "Amable Morin, he no fool. It is six daughters
he has. O oui; the marriage is soon made."

"And the poor haythen, what does she do now?"

"Blackbird? She watch Jean Magliss dance. Then she leave her lodge and
take to de pine wood. Blackbird ver fond of what you call de Irish."

Owen was little richer in the gift of expression than the Indian woman,
but he could feel the tragedy of her unconfirmed marriage. A squaw was
taken to her lord's wigwam, and remained as long as she pleased him. He
could divorce her with a gift, proportioned to his means and her worth.

When Leon Baudette departed, Owen prepared and ate his supper, brewing
himself some herb tea and seasoning it with a drop of whiskey.

The evening beauty of the lake, of coasts melting in general dimness,
and that iridescent stony hook stretched out from Round Island to
grapple passing craft, was lost on Owen. Humid air did not soften the
glower which grew and hardened on his visage as he made his preparations
for night. These were very simple. The coals of drift-wood soon died
to white ashes in his grate. To close the shop was to stand upon the
shoemaker's bench and reach for the ladder in his attic--a short ladder
that just performed its office and could be hidden aloft.

Drawing his stairway after him when he had ascended, Owen spread and
arranged his blankets. The ghosts that rose from tortured bodies in the
Kitchen below never worked any terror in his imagination when he went
to bed. Rather, he lay stretched in his hard cradle gloating over the
stars, his wild security, the thousand night aspects of nature which
he could make part of himself without expressing. For him the moon
cast gorgeous bridges on the water; the breathing of the woods was
the breathing of a colossal brother; and when that awful chill which
precedes the resurrection of day rose from the earth and started from
the rock, he turned comfortably in his thick bedding and taxed sleepy
eyes to catch the wanness coming over the lake.

But instead of lying down in his usual peace when the nest was made
to suit him, Owen wheeled and hung undecided legs over the edge of his
loft. Then he again put down the ladder and descended. He had trod the
three-quarters of a mile of beach to the village but onc