piled there. Germain
stopped to question her. She was deaf and mistook his inquiries.

"Yes, my son," said she, "this is the Devil's Pool. It is an evil spot,
and you must not approach it without throwing in three stones with your
left hand, while you cross yourself with the right. That drives away the
spirits. Otherwise trouble comes to those who go around it."

"I am not asking about that," said Germain, moving nearer her, and
screaming at the top of his lungs. "Have you seen a girl and a child
walking through the wood?"

"Yes," said the old woman, "a little child was drowned there."

Germain shook from head to foot; but happily the hag added:

"That happened a long time ago. In memory of the accident they raised
a handsome cross there. But one stormy night, the bad spirits threw it
into the water. You can still see one end of it. If anybody were unlucky
enough to pass the night here, he could never find his way out before
daylight. He must walk and walk, and though he went two hundred leagues
into the forest, he must always return to the same place."

The peasant's imagination was aroused in spite of himself, and the
thought of the evils that must come in order that the old woman's
assertions might be vindicated, took so firm a hold of his mind that he
felt chilled through and through. Hopeless of obtaining more news, he
remounted, and traversed the woods afresh, calling Pierre with all his
might, whistling, cracking his whip, and snapping the branches that the
whole forest might reecho with the noise of his coming; then he
listened for an answering voice, but he heard no sound save the cowbells
scattered through the glades, and the wild cries of the swine as they
fought over the acorns.

At length Germain heard behind him the noise of a horse following in
his traces, and a man of middle age, dark, sturdy, and dressed after the
city fashion, called to him to stop. Germain had never seen the farmer
of Ormeaux, but his instinctive rage told him at once that this was
the man. He turned, and eyeing him from head to foot, waited for him to
speak.

"Have not you seen a young girl of fifteen or sixteen go by with a small
boy?" asked the farmer, with an assumed air of indifference, although he
was evidently ill at ease.

"What do you want of her?" answered Germain, taking no pains to conceal
his anger.

"I might tell you that that is none of your business, my friend. But
as I have no reasons for secrecy, I shall