my venerable ancestors, heroes
of constancy, who lived for war and died for faith; graves where I go
even now, where I kneel to pay my duty of respect, to drop the filial
tear!"

"Don't forget your living relations!" I said, with some malice. "Here is
your cousin, coming to meet us."

FOOTNOTE:

[3] Pronounced Jakes Dee Arthenay.

CHAPTER V.

AN ox-team was lumbering along the road towards us. The huge oxen
lurched from side to side, half-asleep, making nothing of their load of
meal-sacks piled high in air; their driver walked beside, half-asleep,
too. He was a giant in height (six foot six, Melody, in his stockings! I
have measured him myself), and his white clothes made him look something
monstrous indeed. Yvon stared and gaped, as this vision came slowly
towards him.

"What--what is it?" he asked. "Is it a monster?"

"Oh, no!" I said. "It's only Ham Belfort. How are you, Ham?"

"Smart!" said Ham. "How be you? Hoish, Star! haw! Stand still there,
will ye?"

The oxen came to a halt willingly enough, and man and beasts stood
regarding us with calm, friendly eyes. Ham and his oxen looked so much
alike, Melody (the oxen were white, I ought to have said), that I
sometimes thought, if we dressed one of the beasts up and did away with
his horns, people would hardly know which was which.

"Taking a load over to Cato?"

Cato was the nearest town, my dear. It was there that the weekly boat
touched, which was our one link with the world of cities and railways.

Ham nodded; he was not given to unnecessary speech.

"Is your wife better? I heard she was poorly."

"No, she ain't! I expect she'll turn up her toes now most any day."

This seemed awkward. I muttered some expressions of regret, and was
about to move on, when my companion, who had been gazing speechless and
motionless at the figure before him, caught my arm.

"Present me!" he whispered. "Holy Blue! this is my cousin, my own blood!
Present me, Jacques!"

Now, I had never had occasion to make a formal introduction in my life,
Melody. I had not yet begun to act as master of ceremonies at balls,
only as fiddler and call-man; and it is the living truth that the only
form of words I could bring to mind at the moment was, "Gents, balance
to partners!" I almost said it aloud; but, fortunately, my wits came
back, and I stammered out, sorely embarrassed:

"Ham, this is--a gentleman--who--who is staying with Father
L'Homme-Dieu."

"That so? Please