Its old arched porch, the only one in the neighborhood that was whitewashed, looked like one of those entry-ways that are so common in African villages.

This estate, I had been told, belonged to the St.Hermangarde children, who were destined to become my future comrades.

They were expected almost daily, but I dreaded to have them come, for my little band composed of the Peyrals seemed all sufficient and extremely well chosen..