There was an old man named Pierre, whose duty it was to bring the meat
from the storeroom for the men. Old Pierre, in the kindness of
his heart, used to select the fattest and the best pieces for his
companions. This did not long escape the keen-eyed bourgeois, who was
greatly disturbed at such improvidence, and cast about for some means to
stop it. At last he hit on a plan that exactly suited him. At the side
of the meat-room, and separated from it by a clay partition, was another
compartment, used for the storage of furs. It had no other communication
with the fort, except through a square hole in the partition; and of
course it was perfectly dark. One evening the bourgeois, watching for
a moment when no one observed him, dodged into the meat-room, clambered
through the hole, and ensconced himself among the furs and buffalo
robes. Soon after, old Pierre came in with his lantern; and, muttering
to himself, began to pull over the bales of meat, and select the best
pieces, as usual. But suddenly a hollow and sepulchral voice proceeded
from the inner apartment: "Pierre! Pierre! Let that fat meat alone! Take
nothing but lean!" Pierre dropped his lantern, and bolted out into
the fort, screaming, in an agony of terror, that the devil was in the
storeroom; but tripping on the threshold, he pitched over upon the
gravel, and lay senseless, stunned by the fall. The Canadians ran out
to the rescue. Some lifted the unlucky Pierre; and others, making an
extempore crucifix out of two sticks, were proceeding to attack the
devil in his stronghold, when the bourgeois, with a crest-fallen
countenance, appeared at the door. To add to the bourgeois'
mortification, he was obliged to explain the whole stratagem to Pierre,
in order to bring the latter to his senses.

We were sitting, on the following morning, in the passage-way between
the gates, conversing with the traders Vaskiss and May. These two men,