ther.

"Hornigold!" he whispered hoarsely with his parched and stiffened lips.
"Is it thou?"

A deep voice beat into his consciousness.

"Ay. I wanted to let you know there was water here. You must be thirsty.
You'd like a drink? So would I. There is not enough for both of us. Who
will get it? I. Look!"

"Not all, not all!" screamed the old captain faintly, as the other
drained the cup. "A little! A drop for me!"

"Not one drop," answered Hornigold, "not one drop! If you were in hell
and I held a river in my hand, you would not get a drop! It's gone."

He threw the cup from him.

"I brought you to this--I! Do you recall it? You owe this to me. You had
your revenge--this is mine. But it's not over yet. I'm watching you. I
shall not come out here again, but I'm watching you, remember that! I
can see you!"

"Hornigold, for God's sake, have pity!"

"You know no God; you have often boasted of it--neither do I. And you
never knew pity--neither do I!"

[Illustration: "I wanted to let you know there was water here ... There
is not enough for both of us. Who will get it? I; look!"]

"Take that knife you bear--kill me!"

"I don't want you to die--not yet. I want you to live--live--a long
time, and remember!"

"Hornigold, I'll make amends! I'll be your slave!"

"Ay, crawl and cringe now, you dog! I swore that you should do it! It's
useless to beg me for mercy. I know not that word--neither did you.
There is nothing left in me but hate--hate for you. I want to see you
suffer----"

"The tide! It's coming back. I can't endure this heat and thirst! It
won't drown me----"

"Live, then," said the boatswain. "Remember, I watch!"

He threw his glance upward, stopped suddenly, a fierce light in that old
eye of his.

"Look up," he cried, "and you will see! Take heart, man. I guess you
won't have to wait for the tide, and the sun won't bother you long.
Remember, I am watching you!"

He turned and walked away, concealing himself in the copse once more
where he could see and not be seen. The realization that he was watched
by one whom he could not see, one who gloated over his miseries and
sufferings and agonies, added the last touch to the torture of the
buccaneer. He had no longer strength nor manhood, he no longer cried
out after that one last appeal to the merciless sailor. He did not even
look up in obedience to the old man's injunction. What was there above
him, beneath him, around him, that could add to his fea