ell ahead among the oleanders
and evergreens, with a bundle which contained the final gifts of our
friends. Indeed I waited at the wicket-gate not only till I was
thoroughly tired of waiting, but till I knew we dare wait no longer, and
then I went back to look for Dennis.

About twenty yards back I saw him, as I thought, mixed up in some way
with an oleander-bush in pink blossom, but, coming nearer, I found that
it was Eileen's grey-green dress with the pink bows, which, like a
slackened sail, was flapping against him in the evening breeze, as he
knelt in front of her.

"Dennis," said I, not too loud; not loud enough in fact, for they did
not hear me; and all that Dennis said was, "Take plenty, Darlin'!"

He was kneeling up, and holding back some of the muslin and ribbons with
one hand, whilst with the other he held out a forelock of his black
curls, and she cut it off with the scissors out of the sailor's
housewife which she had made for him. I turned my back and called
louder.

"I know, Jack. I'm coming this instant," said Dennis.

The night was noisy with the croaking of frogs, the whirring and
whizzing of insects, the cheeping of bats, and the distant cries of
birds, but Dennis and Eileen were silent. Then she called out,
"Good-bye, Jack, GOD bless you."

"Good-bye, Miss Eileen, and GOD bless you," said I, feeling nearly as
miserable as if I were in love myself. And then we ran all the rest of
the way to the stelling.

Alister was already on board, and the young officer was there to bid us
GOD speed, and Dennis was cheerful almost to noisiness.

But when the shores of British Guiana had become a muddy-looking horizon
line, I found him, with his cropped forehead pressed to the open
housewife, shedding bitter tears among the new needles and buttons.

CHAPTER XVII.

"Zur tiefen Ruh, wie er sich auch gefunden.
* * * * * *
Sein Geist ist's, der mich ruft."
_Wallenstein's Tod_.

Not the least troublesome part of our enlarged kit was the collection of
gay-plumaged birds. Their preservation was by no means complete, and I
continued it at sea. But between climate and creatures, the
destructiveness of the tropics is distracting to the collector, and one
or two of my finest specimens fell into heaps of mangled feathers, dust,
and hideous larvae under my eyes. It was Dennis O'Moore's collection.