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Bowls of roses, red and white and golden, bloomed delicately in every recess against the black oak of the panels. The flames were leaping on the hearth about a fresh log thrown into the red-hot wood-ash. The two old sisters sat almost in the chimney corner, side by side, where they could exchange their confidences unheard.

"You have no little children, you sleep well of nights, the fall of wood-ash does not rouse you, you do not listen when you awake.

The inn had other advantages: the blacksmith's was close by, the mill was just at hand; and, lastly, one could get a good meal in it, thanks to the cook, a fat and red-faced peasant woman, who prepared rich and appetizing dishes and dealt out provisions without stint; the nearest tavern was reckoned not half a mile away; the host kept snuff which though mixed with wood-ash, was extremely pungent and pleasantly irritated the nose; in fact there were many reasons why visitors of all sorts were never lacking in that inn.

The calcined bones I had rescued were kept in one of the big, rudely shaped, half-burnt earthen jars which Nuflo had used for storing grain and other food-stuff. It was of a wood-ash colour; and after I had given up my search for the peculiar fine clay he had used in its manufacture for it had been in my mind to make a more shapely funeral urn myself I set to work to ornament its surface.

Runi only remarked, apropos of what I had told him, that they could not go there to hunt; then he asked me if I feared nothing. "Nothing," I replied carelessly. "The things you fear hurt not the white man and are no more than this to me," saying which I took up a little white wood-ash in my hand and blew it away with my breath.

So he pa gwine whop him fo' tellin' a fib 'bout dey ain' no ghosts whin yiver'body know' dey is ghosts; but de school-teacher, whut board at Unc' Silas Diggs's house, she tek' note de hair ob li'l' black Mose's head am plumb white, an' she tek' note li'l' black Mose's face am de color ob wood-ash, so she jes retch' one arm round dat li'l' black boy, an' she jes snuggle' him up, an' she say': "Honey lamb, don't you be skeered; ain' nobody gwine hurt you.

Now let thou thy servant depart in peace. That's the way I'm feelin' mysel'. And then slumber came on me like an armed man, and in the chair by the dying wood-ash I slept off the ache of my limbs, the tension of my nerves, and the confusion of my brain. The Storm Breaks in the West The following evening it was the 20th day of March I started for France after the dark fell.