Beyond the Bayou and Other Short Stories Read Online Free PDF

the wood, La Folle?" he had inquired, with the calculating air of an experienced hunter.
    "Non, non!"
the woman laughed. "Don't you look fo' no deer, Chéri. Dat 's too big. But you bring La Folle one good fat squirrel fo' her dinner to-morrow, an' she goin' be satisfi'."
    "One squirrel ain't a bite. I'll bring you
mo' 'an one, La Folle," he had boasted pompously as he went away.
    When the woman, an hour later, heard the report of the boy's rifle close to the wood's edge, she would have thought nothing of it if a sharp cry of distress had not followed the sound.
    She withdrew her arms from the tub of suds in which they had been plunged, dried them upon her apron, and as quickly as her trembling limbs would bear her, hurried to the spot whence the ominous report had come.
    It was as she feared. There she found Chéri stretched upon the ground, with his rifle beside him. He moaned piteously:--
    "I'm dead, La Folle! I'm dead! I'm gone!"
    "Non, non!"
she exclaimed resolutely, as she knelt beside him. "Put you' arm 'roun' La Folle's nake, Chéri. Dat 's nuttin'; dat goin' be nuttin'." She lifted him in her powerful arms.
    Chéri had carried his gun muzzle-downward. He had stumbled,-- he did not know how. He only knew that he had a ball lodged somewhere in his leg, and he thought that his end was at hand. Now, with his
head upon the woman's shoulder, he moaned and wept with pain and fright.
    "Oh, La Folle! La Folle! it hurt so bad! I can' stan' it, La Folle!"
    "Don't cry,
mon bebe, mon bebe, mon Chéri!
" the woman spoke soothingly as she covered the ground with long strides. "La Folle goin' mine you; Doctor Bonfils goin' come make
mon Chéri
well agin."
    She had reached the abandoned field. As she crossed it with her precious burden, she looked constantly and restlessly from side to side. A terrible fear was upon her, --the fear of the world beyond the bayou, the morbid and insane dread she had been under since childhood.
    When she was at the bayou's edge she stood there, and shouted for help as if a life depended upon it:--
    "Oh, P'tit Maître! P'tit Maître! Venez donc! Au secours! Au secours!"
    No voice responded. Chéri's hot tears were scalding her neck. She called for each and every one upon the place, and still no answer came.
    She shouted, she wailed; but whether her voice remained unheard or unheeded, no reply came to her frenzied cries. And all
the while Chéri moaned and wept and entreated to be taken home to his mother.
    La Folle gave a last despairing look around her. Extreme terror was upon her. She clasped the child close against her breast, where he could feel her heart beat like a muffled hammer. Then shutting her eyes, she ran suddenly down the shallow bank of the bayou, and never stopped till she had climbed the opposite shore.
    She stood there quivering an instant as she opened her eyes. Then she plunged into the footpath through the trees.
    She spoke no more to Chéri, but muttered constantly, "Bon Dieu, ayez pitie La Folle! Bon Dieu, ayez pitie moi!"
    Instinct seemed to guide her. When the pathway spread clear and smooth enough before her, she again closed her eyes tightly against the sight of that unknown and terrifying world.
    A child, playing in some weeds, caught sight of her as she neared the quarters. The little one uttered a cry of dismay.
    "La Folle!" she screamed, in her piercing treble. "La Folle done cross de bayer!"
    Quickly the cry passed down the line of cabins.

    "Yonda, La Folle done cross de bayou!"
    Children, old men, old women, young ones with infants in their arms, flocked to doors and windows to see this awe-inspiring spectacle. Most of them shuddered with superstitious dread of what it might portend. "She totin' Chéri!" some of them shouted.
    Some of the more daring gathered about her, and followed at her heels, only to fall back with new terror when she turned her distorted face upon them. Her eyes were bloodshot and the saliva had gathered in a white foam on her black lips.
    Some one