consumption? He
asked the question anxiously.

But Nikolas Rocherath laughed. No, Michel Solheid had never known a
day's illness all his life, and had not died of any illness. He had
worked at the machine factory at Verviers, covered with black soot and
naked to the waist. Cold and heat had had no effect on him. And
he used to come over from Verviers every Saturday and spend Sunday with
his family. And it had been the Saturday before the festival of St.
Peter and St. Paul somewhat over a year ago now, and Michel had bought
his wife a side of bacon and one or two pounds of coffee for the money
he had earned for overtime.

"You must know, sir, everything is much too dear for us here, and it
is much cheaper on the other side of the frontier," said the old man in
a troubled voice; then, raising his fist slowly, he shook it at the
Venn that lay there so peaceful and remote from the world. "But they
were soon on his tracks. They came after him from the Baraque--the
accursed douaniers. Three, four of them. Now you must know that Michel
could run as well as any of them. If he had thrown his parcel behind a
bush and run, they would never have caught him. But no, he would not,
he would have felt ashamed of himself if he had done so. So in order
not to let them know where he was going, he ran to the left through the
Walloon Venn in the direction of Hill instead of to the right. Then on
through Clefay and Neckel,[A] and so on in all directions, and in this
manner he got away from the neighbourhood he knew as well as he knew
his own pocket. They were close at his heels above the Pannensterz. And
they ran after him calling out 'Stop!'

[Footnote A: Wooded districts in the High Venn.]

"Look you, sir, if he had run into the Great Haard then and hidden
in the thicket there, they would never have found him without a dog.
But he lost his head, and ran out of the bushes straight across the
Venn.

"'Halt!--Stop!'--and a third time 'Halt!' But he bounded along like
a stag. Then one of them pulled his trigger and--Jesus Christ have
mercy upon us, now and at the hour of our death!"--the vestryman
devoutly made the sign of the cross and then wiped his nose with the
back of his hand--"the shot pierced the side of bacon and went into his
back, in from behind, out at the front. Then Solheid turned a
somersault. It was a shame. Such a fine fellow, for a side of bacon.

"He still lived for over an hour. He told them that he was Solh