bruise on the side of his head. "He's a devil to fight and as strong as an
ox;" and they turned and followed the Sénéchal and Philip Carré through the
tunnel.

"Good riddance!" said a woman in the crowd, taking off her black sun-bonnet
and giving it an angry shake before putting it on again. "We don't want any
of that kind here,"--with a meaning look at the big fishermen behind, which
set them grinning and winking knowingly.

"Aw then, Mistress Guilbert," said one, lurching uncomfortably under her
gaze, with his hands deep in his trouser pockets. "We others know better
than that."

"And a good thing for you, too. That kind of work won't go down in Sercq,
let me tell you. Ma fé, no!" and the crowd dribbled away through the tunnel
to get back to its work again.

The Sénéchal was busy planting late cabbages and time was precious. The
grave-faced fisherman, who had stood behind the crowd, tramped up the
narrow road by his side.

"Well, Carré, you're rid of him. I hope for good," said the Sénéchal.

"Before God, I hope so, M. le Sénéchal! He has a devil."

"How goes it with Mistress Rachel this morning?"

"She says little."

"But thinks the more, no doubt. She has suffered more than we know, I