"Your goat cannot keep what he wins."
"But I can," say Filon. Then he look at me with his eyes like—like I have told you, M'siu.
"Raoul," he say, "you is one little man."
With that I remember me all the wrong I have had from this one.
"Go you after your goat, Filon Geraud," say I.
With that I put my staff behind his foot, so, M'siu, and send him into the water, splash! He come to his feet presently in the pool with the water all in his hair and his eyes, and the stream run strong and dark against his middle.
"Hey, you, Raoul, what for you do that?" he say, but also he laugh. "Ah, ha, little man, you have the joke this time."
M'siu, that laugh stop on his face like it been freeze, his mouth is open, his eyes curl up. It is terrible, that dead laugh in the midst of the black water that run down from his hair.
"Raoul," he say, "the sand is quick!"
Then he take one step, and I hear the sand suck. I see Filon shiver like a reed in the swift water.