The preacher laughed. He was an unlearned man, but he had the great
heart of an apostle, and was open to jokes.

"Do you think I am riding the wilderness for the pleasure of perverting
the truth?"

"My friend," returned Father Olivier, "you have been in our sacristy,
and seen our parish records kept here by the hands of priests for a
hundred years. You want to make what you call revivals; I am content
with survivals, with keeping alive the faith. Yet you think I am the
devil. As for me, I do not say all heretics ought to be burned."

The preacher laughed again with Father Olivier, but did not fail to
add,--

"You say what I think better than I could say it myself."

The priest left his Protestant brother with a wave of the hand and a
smiling shrug, and passed on his way along the array of booths. His
presence was a check on many a rustic drinker. His glance, dropped here
and there, saved more than one sheep from the shearer. But his own face
fell, and he stopped in astonishment, when an awkward figure was pushed
against him, and he recognized his upland lamb.

"Jean Lozier, what are you doing here?" said Father Olivier.

Jean had dodged him many times. The lad stood still, cap in hand,
looking down. Nothing could make him sorry he had come to Kaskaskia; but
he expected to do penance for it.

"Where is your grandfather?"

"He is at home, father."

"Did you leave that blind old man alone, to wander out and fall over the
bluff?"

"I left him, father, but I tied him to a joist in the ceiling with a
long rope."

"To hang himself?"

"No, father; it is a very long rope."

"And what will the old man do when he grows hungry?"

"His food for the day is on the table."

"My son, my son!"

"Father," exclaimed the boy with passion, "I was never in Kaskaskia
before. And Colonel Menard lent me a pony to ride after my young master.
I have no pleasure but watching the lights of the town at night." The
great fellow began to sob. "If my grandfather would but come here, I
could keep him well. I have been watching how they do things in
Kaskaskia. But no, he will stay on the hills. And when I could stand it
no more I tied him and came."

Father Olivier had looked into the eyes of soldiers and seen the sick
longing for some particular place which neither courage nor resolution
seems able to control. He saw even more than this in Jean Lozier's eyes.
He saw the anguish of a creature about to be driven back from its
eleme