wiped his
forehead, and resting both hands on his spade, looked upwards at the
bright blue sky. Fleecy clouds passed across it now and then,
intensifying its depth, and apparently riveting Christian's gaze, for he
continued motionless for several minutes, with his clear eye fixed on
the blue vault, and a sad, wistful expression on his handsome face, as
if memory, busy with the past and future, had forgotten the present. It
was his last look. A bullet from the bushes struck him at that moment
on the breast. Uttering one short, sharp cry, he threw both hands high
above his head, and fell backwards. The spasm of pain was but
momentary. The sad, wistful look was replaced by a quiet smile. He
never knew who had released his spirit from the prison-house of clay,
for the eyes remained fixed on the bright blue sky, clear and steadfast,
until death descended. Then the light went out, just as his murderers
came forward, but the quiet smile remained, and his spirit returned to
God who gave it.

It seemed as if the murderers were, for a few moments, awestruck and
horrified by what they had done; but they quickly recovered. What they
had set their faces to accomplish must now be done at all hazards.

"Did you hear that cry?" said McCoy, raising himself from his work in
the neighbouring garden.

"Yes; what then?" demanded Quintal.

"It sounded to me uncommon like the cry of a wounded man," said McCoy.

"Didn't sound like that to me," returned Quintal; "more like Mainmast
callin' her husband to dinner."

As he spoke, Tetaheite appeared at the edge of the garden with a musket
in his hand, the other two natives remaining concealed in the bushes.

"Ho, Missr Mills," he called out, in his broken English, "me have just
shoot a large pig. Will you let Menalee help carry him home?"

"Yes;--you may go," said Mills, turning to Menalee.

The Otaheitan threw down his tools, and joined his comrades in the bush,
where he was at once told what had been done.

Menalee did not at first seem as much pleased as his comrades had
expected, nevertheless, he agreed to go with them.

"How shall we kill Mills and McCoy?" asked Timoa, in a low whisper.

"Shoot them," answered Menalee; "you have three muskets."

"But they also have muskets," objected Tetaheite, "and are good shots.
If we miss them, some of us shall be dead men at once."

"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Nehow, who thereupon hastily
detailed a plan, which they proc