ed her brother, who had
taken refuge in a corner of the kitchen, and seemed frightened and
irritated.

"Mind yourself, mother's going to begin, and then it will be too late!"
said the tall sister.

"I don't care!" replied Francois, turning pale. "I'd rather be beaten as
I was the day before yesterday, than--go to the wood-pile--and at
night--again."

"And why?" asked Calabash, impatiently.

"I am--afraid of the wood-pile--I--" answered the boy, shuddering as he
spoke.

"Afraid--you stupid! And of what?"

Francois shook his head, but did not reply.

"Will you answer? What are you afraid of?"

"I don't know. But I am frightened."

"Why, you've been there a hundred times, and last night, too."

"I won't go there any more."

"Mother's going to begin."

"So much the worse for me," exclaimed the lad. "But she may beat me,
kill me, and I'll not go near the wood-pile--not at night."

"Once more--why not?" inquired Calabash.

"Why, because--"

"Because--?"

"Because there's some one--"

"There's some one--"

"Buried there!" said Francois, with a shudder.

The felon's widow, in spite of her impassiveness, could not repress a
sudden start; her daughter did the same. It seemed as though the two
women were struck with an electric shock.

"Some one buried by the wood-pile?" said Calabash, shrugging her
shoulders.

"I tell you that just now, whilst I was piling up some wood, I saw in a
dark corner near the wood-pile a dead man's bone; it was sticking a
little way out of the ground where it was damp, just by the corner,"
added Francois.

"Do you hear him, mother? Why, the boy's a fool!" said Calabash, making
a signal to the widow. "They are mutton-bones I put there for
washing-lye."

"It was not a mutton-bone," replied the boy, with alarm, "it was a dead
person's bones,--a dead man's bones. I saw quite plainly a foot that
stuck out of the ground."

"And, of course, you told your brother, your dear friend Martial, of
your grand discovery, didn't you?" asked Calabash, with brutal irony.

Francois made no reply.

"Nasty little spy!" said Calabash, savagely; "because he is as cowardly
as a cur, and would as soon see us scragged, as our father was scragged
before us."

"If you call me a spy, I'll tell my brother Martial everything!" said
Francois, much enraged. "I haven't told him yet, for I haven't seen him
since; but, when he comes here this evening, I'll--"

The child could not finish; his mother