It was immediately decided that they must get rid of Pierrot.  No one wanted him.  Every one declined to take him for ten leagues around.  Then they resolved, not knowing what else to do, to make him “piquer du mas.”

“Piquer du mas” means to eat chalk.  When one wants to get rid of a dog they make him “Piquer du mas.”

In the midst of an immense plain one sees a kind of hut, or rather a very small roof standing above the ground.  This is the entrance to the clay pit.  A big perpendicular hole is sunk for twenty metres underground and ends in a series of long subterranean tunnels.

Once a year they go down into the quarry at the time they fertilize the ground.  The rest of the year it serves as a cemetery for condemned dogs, and as one passed by this hole plaintive howls, furious or despairing barks and lamentable appeals reach one’s ear.

Sportsmen’s dogs and sheep dogs flee in terror from this mournful place, and when one leans over it one perceives a disgusting odor of putrefaction.

Frightful dramas are enacted in the darkness.

When an animal has suffered down there for ten or twelve days, nourished on the foul remains of his predecessors, another animal, larger and more vigorous, is thrown into the hole.  There they are, alone, starving, with glittering eyes.  They watch each other, follow each other, hesitate in doubt.  But hunger impels them; they attack each other, fight desperately for some time, and the stronger eats the weaker, devours him alive.

When it was decided to make Pierrot “piquer du mas” they looked round for an executioner.  The laborer who mended the road demanded six sous to take the dog there.  That seemed wildly exorbitant to Mme. Lefevre.  The neighbor’s hired boy wanted five sous; that was still too much.  So Rose having observed that they had better carry it there themselves, as in that way it would not be brutally treated on the way and made to suspect its fate, they resolved to go together at twilight.

They offered the dog that evening a good dish of soup with a piece of butter in it.  He swallowed every morsel of it, and as he wagged his tail with delight Rose put him in her apron.

They walked quickly, like thieves, across the plain.  They soon perceived the chalk pit and walked up to it.  Mme. Lefevre leaned over to hear if any animal was moaning.  No, there were none there; Pierrot would be alone.  Then Rose, who was crying, kissed the dog and threw him into the chalk pit, and they both leaned over, listening.

First they heard a dull sound, then the sharp, bitter, distracting cry of an animal in pain, then a succession of little mournful cries, then despairing appeals, the cries of a dog who is entreating, his head raised toward the opening of the pit.

He yelped, oh, how he yelped!

They were filled with remorse, with terror, with a wild inexplicable fear, and ran away from the spot.  As Rose went faster Mme. Lefevre cried:  “Wait for me, Rose, wait for me!”