in death, and blood spouted from scores
of wounds.

The victory was awful, instantaneous. As the men fled towards the
hills, Black called after them--

"Bring to, you limp-gutted carrion, or I'll wipe you out, every one of
you! Any man who'll save his throat, let him come here!"

At these words they turned back to a man, and came cowering to the
water's edge. Thirty of their fellows lay dead or wounded on the
stones, and many of those crawling towards us had bullets in their
limbs. Yet Black had no thought for them.

"Where's your leader?" he asked, and they pointed to the American, who
lay with the blood pouring from a wound in his left thigh.

"He's there, is he?" screamed the infuriated man. "The darned skunk's
down, is he? Well, I'll cure him like a ham. Get torches, some of you
and ice him in."

He was swaying with passion; yet, even regarding it, I could not
understand what his order meant, and I asked--

"What are you going to do with that man?"

"What am I going to do with him?" he yelled, scarce noticing who spoke
to him; "I'm going to bury him."

It was wonderful in that moment to see how the men, who had before
defied him, then became as slaves at his command. A silence deep and
profound rested upon them; even those with the captain watched him in
his outrageous anger and were dumb; but all helped him in his ghastly
work, and brought shovels and picks, which they carried to the higher
plane of snow. As for the American, who sat upon the beach groaning
with the pain of his wound, I do not know how any man could have wished
to add to his hurt; yet he asked for no sympathy, and it was plain that
he knew what they meant to do with him. At one time feverish ravings
seized him, and he shook his fist at all around him; then he poured his
anger upon Black, who listened to him, gratified that he should provoke
it. And the more the man cursed, the greater satisfaction did the other
show.

"We've got to die, both of us," said the American at last, ceasing his
wilder oaths; "you en me, Black, en there isn't much ez we kin look
for; but, if there's en Almighty God, I reckon ez He'll place this yere
off my score, and lay it on yours, or there ain't no hell, an' there
ain't no justice, and what seamen dreams of is lies--lies as your word
is lies, en everything about your cursed ship. Go on, lay me right here
as I lay now; but I'll rize agen you, and the day'll come when you'd
give every dollar ye're worth to di