Fortunately, the cabin of Whiskey Centre stood on the brow of a sharp descent, at the bottom of which ran a brawling brook.  At another moment, le Bourdon would have thought of saving the barrels; but time pressed, and he could not delay.  Seizing the barrel next to him, he rolled it without difficulty to the brow of the declivity, and set it off with a powerful shove of his foot.  It was the half-empty cask, and away it went, the liquor it contained washing about as it rolled over and over, until hitting a rock about half-way down the declivity, the hoops gave way, when the staves went over the little precipice, and the water of the stream was tumbling through all that remained of the cask, at the next instant.  A slight exclamation of delight behind him caused the bee-hunter to look round, and he saw Margery watching his movement with an absorbed interest.  Her smile was one of joy, not unmingled with terror; and she rather whispered than said aloud—­“The other—­the other—­that is full—­be quick; there is no time to lose.”  The bee-hunter seized the second cask and rolled it toward the brow of the rocks.  It was not quite as easily handled as the other barrel, but his strength sufficed, and it was soon bounding down the declivity after its companion.  The second cask hit the same rock as the first, whence it leaped off the precipice, and, aided by its greater momentum, it was literally dashed in pieces at its base.

Not only was this barrel broken into fragments, but its hoops and staves were carried down the torrent, driving before them those of the sister cask, until the whole were swept into the lake, which was some distance from the cabin.

“That job is well done!” exclaimed le Bourdon, when the last fragment of the wreck was taken out of sight.  “No man will ever turn himself into a beast by means of that liquor.”

“God be praised!” murmured Margery.  “He is so different, stranger, when he has been drinking, from what he is when he has not!  You have been sent by Providence to do us this good.”

“I can easily believe that, for it is so with us all.  But you must not call me stranger, sweet Margery; for, now that you and I have this secret between us, I am a stranger no longer.”

The girl smiled and blushed; then she seemed anxious to ask a question.  In the mean time they left the shed, and took seats, in waiting for the arrival of Gershom and his wife.  It was not long ere the last entered; the countenance of the wife beaming with a satisfaction she made no effort to conceal.  Dolly was not as beautiful as her sister-in-law; still, she was a comely woman, though one who had been stricken by sorrow.  She was still young, and might have been in the pride of her good looks, had it not been for the manner in which she had grieved over the fall of Gershom.  The joy that gladdens a woman’s heart, however, was now illuminating her countenance, and she welcomed le Bourdon most cordially, as if aware that he had been of service to her husband.  For months she had not seen Gershom quite himself, until that evening.