But the magic herb had no power over a stone marked with a cross. On it rolled, over the miserable man, and into the place where it must rest again for still another hundred years. * * * * * It was morning, and the sun was high in the heavens when Bernet staggered into the inn at Plouvinec. A heavy, bulging sack was thrown over one shoulder; a second sack he dragged behind him. They were full of gold—the treasure from under the stones of Plouvinec. From that time Bernet was the richest man in Plouvinec. Madeleine’s father was glad enough to call him son-in-law and to welcome him into his family. He and Madeleine were married, and lived in the greatest comfort and happiness all their days. But for as long as he lived Bernet could never be induced to go near the heath nor to look upon the stones that had so nearly caused his death. THE KING OF THE BUFFALOES AN AMERICAN INDIAN TALE A LAME Indian and his daughter once lived on the edge of a lonely forest, apart from any tribe or village. The Indian, whose name was Agodaguada, was a great hunter and fisher in spite of his lameness. Every day he went off into the forest, and while he was away his daughter, Iola, took care of the lodge and did the cooking. They would have been very contented there if it had not been for a herd of buffaloes that lived on the other side of the forest. The king of this herd was a magician. He had seen Iola once as she was gathering wood in the forest, and had fallen in love with her, for she was very beautiful. Agodaguada often came upon him hiding in the bushes near the hut, or heard him bellowing down at a stream near by. Agodaguada cautioned his daughter never to leave the lodge while he was away, for he feared the buffalo might seize her and carry her off. He himself was tormented by the ungainly beasts. They muddied the streams where he fished and drove away the game by their bellowing. Gradually he was obliged to go farther and farther from the lodge to find deer or fish. Often as he sat quietly watching for game a hoarse voice would begin to sing at him from behind the bushes or rocks: “You lame mannikin, Don’t you think it a sin To pen up your daughter? —Say, Agodaguada— To shut up your daughter, Don’t you think it a sin?” Sometimes he aimed an arrow or a stone at the place from which the voice sounded, and then a great dark body would go lumbering and crashing away through the forest, and Agodaguada would know that it was one of the buffaloes that had followed him. [Illustration: HE SPOKE TO HER IN THE SOFTEST VOICE HE COULD MANAGE] One day, when Agodaguada was far from home, his daughter climbed up on top of the lodge, and sat there to comb her hair, for it was very long. Every now and then she stopped to listen and look about her, to make sure there was no danger.