His
presence was a check on many a rustic drinker. His glance, dropped here
and there, saved more than one sheep from the shearer. But his own face
fell, and he stopped in astonishment, when an awkward figure was pushed
against him, and he recognized his upland lamb.
"Jean Lozier, what are you doing here?" said Father Olivier.
Jean had dodged him many times. The lad stood still, cap in hand,
looking down. Nothing could make him sorry he had come to Kaskaskia; but
he expected to do penance for it.
"Where is your grandfather?"
"He is at home, father."
"Did you leave that blind old man alone, to wander out and fall over the
bluff?"
"I left him, father, but I tied him to a joist in the ceiling with a
long rope."
"To hang himself?"
"No, father; it is a very long rope."
"And what will the old man do when he grows hungry?"
"His food for the day is on the table."
"My son, my son!"
"Father," exclaimed the boy with passion, "I was never in Kaskaskia
before. And Colonel Menard lent me a pony to ride after my young master.
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