o view, and finally
a face, delicious as a ripe peach, looked once at the intruder below,
and all the pink and bright color faded from it to see, standing there,
where Ebenezer Johnson had given up the ghost, a stalwart effigy,
bandaged in white all round the head, and over the left eye and cheek,
where the dead river-pirate had received his double bullet, the blood
was hideously matted and not wholly stanched even yet. She sank slowly
down upon the steps and saw no more.

"Now, if I don't git out, the dogs will be set loose," muttered Jimmy,
as he disappeared up the farm-house lane and put the barn and pound
between him and the house; and scarcely had he done so when Levin Dennis
appeared coming down the stairs, all unconscious of the apparition, and,
finding the beautiful girl insensible, he raised her in his arms and
stole a kiss.

Paying for his one act of deceit by losing the principal object of his
quest, Jimmy Phoebus stopped a minute by Ebenezer Johnson's grave.

In a level field of deep sand--the soil here being the poorest in the
region--and between the cattle-pound and the pines, which were
everywhere jealous of their other indigenous brother, the Indian corn,
an old family burial-lot lay under some low cedar-trees, with wild berry
bushes growing all around. There were several little stones over
Twifords that had died early, and a large heap of sand, planted with
some flowers, that might have covered a favorite horse, but which
Phoebus believed was the resting-place of the river buccaneer; and
there was also a vault of brick and plaster, with the little door ajar,
where prurient visitors, themselves with Saul's own selfish curiosity to
raise the dead, had poked and peeped about until the coffin lids had
been drawn back and the dead pair exposed to the dry peninsular air.

The bay captain looked in and beheld his predecessor, Captain Twiford,
who also sailed the bay, lying in his shroud--not in full clothing, as
men are buried now, for clothing was too valuable in the scanty-peopled
country to feed it to the worms. Twiford lay shrivelled up, shroud and
flesh making but one skin, the face of a walnut color, the hair
complete, the teeth sound, and severe dignity unrelaxed by the exposure
he was condemned to for his evil alliance with Betty Hanley.

She also lay exposed, who had lived so shamelessly, respecting not the
mould of beauty God had given her, till now men leered to look upon her
nearly kiln-dried