tears. He was stuffing into the bowl of his cutty a few scraps of
canteen tobacco, mixed with bread-crumbs, which did not fill half the
bowl of his little pipe.

"Will you have some tobacco, old fellow?" asked Chevalier, offering him
his pouch.

The man's answer was slow in coming. His understanding was not quick,
and courtesies astonished him. Finally, he opened a mouth which was
quite black, and said:

"I won't say no to that."

He half rose from his seat. One of his feet was shod in an old slipper;
the other was swathed in rags. Slowly, with hands numb with the cold, he
stuffed his pipe. It was snowing, a snow that melted as it fell.

"You will excuse me?" said Chevalier, and he slipped under the tarpaulin
and seated himself beside the old man.

From time to time they exchanged a remark.

"Rotten weather!"

"It's what we expect at this season. Winter's hard; summer's better."

"So you look after the job at night, old fellow?"

The old man answered readily when questioned. Before he spoke his throat
emitted a long, very gentle murmur.