boat's crew from the ship, put a beaker full of water
and some food in the boat, and pulled toward the reef.

At half-past four the tide was high enough to carry them across, and
they rowed over, looking through their glasses anxiously at the white
shore which was lined with brown figures. A canoe rowed out towards
them bringing another canoe in tow. As the boat went towards the
island, one canoe cast off the other, and went back; the second canoe
drifted towards them slowly on the still waters of the blue lagoon.

As it came nearer they saw that in the middle of it lay Something
motionless, covered with matting. They pulled alongside, leaned over
the canoe, and lifted into their boat--the body of Patteson. The empty
canoe now drifted away.

A yell went up from the savages on the shore. The boat was pulled
towards the ship and then the body lifted up and laid on the deck. It
had been rolled in the native matting as a shroud, tied at the head
and feet. They unrolled the mat, and there on the face of the dead
Bishop was still that wonderful, patient and winning smile, as of one
who at the moment when his head was beneath the uplifted club said,
"Lord, lay not this sin to their charge," and had then fallen asleep.

There was a palm leaf fastened over his breast. In its long leaflets
five knots were made. On the body, in the head, the side, and the
legs were five wounds. And five men in Fiji were at work in the
plantations--men captured from Nukapu by brutal white traders.

It was the vengeance of the savage--the call of "blood for blood"; and
the death of Patteson lies surely upon the head of those white traders
who carried death and captivity to the white coral shore of Nukapu.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 32: Noo-k[)a]-poo.]

[Footnote 33: Midsummer day on the Equator, September 21.]

CHAPTER XII

THE BOY OF THE ADVENTUROUS HEART

_Chalmers, the Boy_

(Born 1841, martyred 1901)

The rain had poured down in such torrents that even the hardy boys of
Inverary in Scotland had been driven indoors. Now the sky had cleared,
and the sun was shining again after the great storm. The boys were out
again, and a group of them were walking toward the little stream of
Aray which tumbled through the glen down to Loch Fyne. But the stream
was "little" no longer.

As the boys came near to the place called "The Three Bridges," where
a rough wooden bridge crossed the torrent, they walked faster towards
the stream, for t