“Be quiet!” said Brisquette; then turning to the children, “Listen, Biscotine, run as far as the mound and see if your father is not coming. And you, Biscotin, take the path along the pond, and be careful lest some of the stakes should be missing. And shout out loud ‘Brisquet! Brisquet!’ “Be quiet, Bichonne!” The children went on and on, and when they met at the place where the path by the pond and the path by the mound crossed, Biscotin exclaimed excitedly, “I shall find my father, I will find him, or the wolves shall eat me up!” [Illustration] “And they shall eat me up too!” said Biscotine. * * * * * All this while Brisquet was returning by the Puchay high road, passing the Asses’ Cross at Mortemer Abbey, because he had a bundle of faggots to leave at Jean Paquier’s. [Illustration] “Have you seen the children?” Brisquette asked him. “The children,” said Brisquet, “the children! Oh mercy, have they gone out?” “I sent them out as far as the mound and the pond to meet you, but you had taken another road.” Brisquet gripped his good axe and set off running towards the mound. “Won’t you take Bichonne with you?” his wife called after him. [Illustration] But Bichonne was already far ahead――so far that Brisquet immediately lost sight of her. In vain he shouted, “Biscotin! Biscotine!” There was no answer. Then he burst into tears for he believed that the children were lost. When he had run a great way he thought he heard Bichonne’s bark. With his good axe above his head he dashed through the thicket in the direction of the sound. Bichonne had reached the spot at the very moment a huge wolf was about to spring upon the children. She had flung herself between, barking furiously so that she might warn Brisquet. With one stroke of his good axe the woodman laid the wolf lifeless, but it was too late to save Bichonne. She was already dead. Brisquet, Biscotin and Biscotine returned home to Brisquette. There was great joy, but they were all weeping. There was not a look that was not turned towards Bichonne. Brisquet buried Bichonne at the foot of the little garden, under a great stone on which the schoolmaster wrote in Latin: _Here lies Bichonne, Brisquet’s poor dog._ Ever since that time we have had the saying, “Unlucky as Brisquet’s dog which went to the wood once, and the wolf ate him.” [Illustration] THE DE LA MORE PRESS LTD. 10 CLIFFORD STREET, BOND STREET, W.1 * * * * * Transcriber’s Notes: ――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). ――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.