"If he did, neither Mr. Bates nor me is handy at this sort of work. We
haven't been used to it. It's a rough thing. Touch it. You will see it's
badly made."

He gained his object. The boy fingered the coffin, and although he did
not praise the handiwork, it seemed to Saul that some horrid spell was
broken when human hands had again touched the box and no evil had
resulted.

"Why didn't you bury him at home?" asked the boy. "He was English."

"Mr. Bates has strict ideas, though he is English. He wanted it done
proper, in a graveyard, by a minister. He has wrote to the minister at
St. Hennon's and sent money for the burying--Mr. Bates, he is always
particular."

"You are not going to St. Hennon's?" said the boy incredulously. "I'll
stay to-night at Turrifs, and go on in the morning. It's four days' walk
for me and the cattle to go and come, but I shall take back a man to cut
the trees."

"Why not send him by the new railroad?"

"It does not stop at Turrifs."

"Yes; they stop at the cross-roads now, not more than three miles from
Turrifs, There's a new station, and an Englishman set to keep it. I've
just brought this sack of flour from there. M. Didier had it come by the
cars."