e very edge of the baler, and was for sipping.

"Oh, look here, Welch!" cried Hazel, an ecstasy of delight.

"Ay, sir," said he. "Poor things, they hain't a found us out yet."

The talking puzzled the bird, if it did not alarm him, and he flew up to
the nearest tree, and, perching there, inspected these new and noisy
bipeds at his leisure.

Hazel now laid his hand on Welch's shoulder and reminded him gently they
had a sad duty to perform, which could not be postponed.

"Right you are, sir," said Welch, "and very kind of you to let me have my
way with him. Poor Sam!"

"I have found a place," said Hazel, in a low voice. "We can take the boat
close to it. But where is Miss Rolleston?"

"Oh, she is not far off; she was here just now, and brought me this here
little cocoanut, and patted me on the back, she did, then off again on a
cruise. Bless her little heart!"

Hazel and Welch then got into the boat, and pushed off without much
difficulty, and punted across the bay to one of those clefts we have
indicated. It was now nearly high water, and they moored the boat close
under the cleft Hazel had selected.

Then they both got out and went up to the extremity of the cleft, and
there, with the ax and with pieces of wood, they scraped out a
resting-place for Cooper. This was light work; for it was all stones,
shells, fragments of coral and dried sea-weed lying loosely together. But
now came a hard task in which Welch could not assist. Hazel unshipped a
thwart and laid the body on it. Then by a great effort staggered with the
burden up to the grave and deposited it. He was exhausted by the
exertion, and had to sit down panting for some time. As soon as he was
recovered, he told Welch to stand at the head of the grave, and he stood
at the foot, bareheaded, and then, from memory, he repeated the service
of our Church, hardly missing or displacing a word.

This was no tame recital; the scene, the circumstances, the very absence
of the book, made it tender and solemn. And then Welch repeated those
beautiful words after Hazel, and Hazel let him. And how did he repeat
them? In such a hearty, loving tone as became one who was about to
follow, and all this but a short leave-taking. So uttered, for the living
as well as the dead, those immortal words had a strange significance and
beauty.

And presently a tender, silvery voice came down to mingle with the deep
and solemn tones of the male mourners. It was Helen Rolleston. She h