schamps concluded. "I have
the headache," he explained. "So bad and so often I have the headache,
monsieur. I cannot bear the great noise they make. It is fearful. So I
put them here, and I go to sleep, and they do not trouble me at all."

"Is monsieur in earnest?" Archie asked.

Deschamps was flattered by this form of address from a young
gentleman. "It is true," he replied. "Compelled. That is the word. I
am compelled to confine them here."

"Let us return to the Newfoundlander," said Archie.

"He is a pig," Deschamps agreed, "and well worth looking at."

When they came to the door of Skipper Bill's cell, Archie was
endeavouring to evolve a plan for having a word with him without
exciting Deschamps' suspicion. The jailer saved him the trouble.

"Monsieur is an American," said Deschamps. "Will he not tell the pig
of a Newfoundlander that he shall have no breakfast?"

"Skipper Bill," said Archie, in English, "when I leave here you howl
until your throat cracks."

Bill o' Burnt Bay nodded. "How's the wind?" he asked.

"What does the pig of a Newfoundlander say?" Deschamps inquired.

"It is of no importance," Archie replied.

When Archie had inspected the guillotine in the garret, which
Deschamps exhibited to every visitor with great pride, the jailer led
him to the open air.

"Do the prisoners never escape?" Archie asked.

"Escape!" Deschamps cried, with reproach and indignation. "Monsieur,
how could you suggest it? Escape! From me--from _me_, monsieur!" He
struck his breast and extended his arms. "Ah, no--they could not! My
bravery, monsieur--my strength--all the world knows of them. I am
famous, monsieur. Deschamps, the wrestler! Escape! From _me_! Ah,
no--it is _impossible_!"

When Archie had more closely observed his gigantic form, his broad,
muscular chest, his mighty arms and thick neck, his large, lowering
face--when he had observed all this he fancied that a man might as
well wrestle with a grizzly as oppose him, for it would come to the
same thing in the end.

"You are a strong man," Archie admitted.

"Thanks--thanks--monsieur!" the delighted Deschamps responded.

At that moment, a long, dismal howl broke the quiet. It was repeated
even more excruciatingly.

"The pig of a Newfoundlander!" groaned Deschamps. "My head! It is
fearful. He will give me the headache."

Archie departed. He was angry with Deschamps for having called
Newfoundlanders pigs. After all, he determined, angrily, the jai