noble families
of the province; still at times great hunting parties were got up
for the chase of the wolves among the forests, for, when the snow
was on the ground, these often came down into the villages and
committed great depredations.

CHAPTER III

The Demon Wolf

Upon the first of these occasions Harry and Ernest were in high
spirits, for they were to take part in the chase. It was the first
time that Ernest had done so, for during the previous winter the
marquis had been in attendance on the court. At an early hour the
guests invited to take part in the chase began to assemble at the
chateau. Many who lived at a distance had come overnight, and
the great court-yard presented a lively aspect with the horses
and attendants of the guests. A collation was spread in the great
hall, and the marquise and her eldest daughter moved about among
the guests saying a few words of welcome to each.

"Who is that young man who is talking to mademoiselle your sister,
Ernest?" Harry asked, for since the adventure with the mad dog the
ceremonious title had been dropped, and the boys addressed each
other by their Christian names.

"That is Monsieur Lebat; he is the son of the Mayor of Dijon. I
have not see him here before, but I suppose my father thinks it is
well in these times to do the civil thing to the people of Dijon.
He is a good-looking fellow too, but it is easy to see he is not
a man of good family."

"I don't like his looks at all," Harry said shortly. "Look what a
cringing air he puts on as he speaks to madame la marquise. And yet
I fancy he could be insolent when he likes. He may be good-looking,
but it is not a style I admire, with his thick lips and his
half-closed eyes. If I met him at home I should say the fellow was
something between a butcher and a Jew pedlar."

"Well done, monsieur the aristocrat!" Ernest said laughing. "This
is your English equality! Here is a poor fellow who is allowed to
take a place our of his station, thanks to the circumstances of
the time, and you run him down mercilessly!"

"I don't run him down because he is not a gentleman," Harry said.
"I run him down because I don't like his face; and if he were the
son of a duke instead of the son of a mayor I should dislike it
just as much. You take my word for it, Ernest, that's a bad fellow."

"Poor Monsieur Lebat!" Ernest laughed. "I daresay he is a very
decent fellow in his way.

"I am sure he is not, Ernest; he has a