to-morrow and lend me a hand. If you can't, send the mate."

"Right O. I'll come myself. Mr. Johnson's dead, sir. I forgot to tell
you--three days ago."

Sheldon watched the _Jessie's_ captain go down the path, with waving arms
and loud curses calling upon God to sink the Solomons. Next, Sheldon
noted the _Jessie_ rolling lazily on the glassy swell, and beyond, in the
north-west, high over Florida Island, an alpine chain of dark-massed
clouds. Then he turned to his partner, calling for boys to carry him
into the house. But Hughie Drummond had reached the end. His breathing
was imperceptible. By mere touch, Sheldon could ascertain that the dying
man's temperature was going down. It must have been going down when the
thermometer registered one hundred and seven. He had burned out. Sheldon
knelt beside him, the house-boys grouped around, their white singlets and
loin-cloths peculiarly at variance with their dark skins and savage
countenances, their huge ear-plugs and carved and glistening nose-rings.
Sheldon tottered to his feet at last, and half-fell into the
steamer-chair. Oppressive as the heat had been, it was now even more
oppressive. It was difficult to breathe. He panted for air. The faces
and naked arms of the house-boys were beaded with sweat.

"Marster," one of them ventured, "big fella wind he come, strong fella
too much."

Sheldon nodded his head but did not look. Much as he had loved Hughie
Drummond, his death, and the funeral it entailed, seemed an intolerable
burden to add to what he was already sinking under. He had a
feeling--nay, it was a certitude--that all he had to do was to shut his
eyes and let go, and that he would die, sink into immensity of rest. He
knew it; it was very simple. All he had to do was close his eyes and let
go; for he had reached the stage where he lived by will alone. His weary
body seemed torn by the oncoming pangs of dissolution. He was a fool to
hang on. He had died a score of deaths already, and what was the use of
prolonging it to two-score deaths before he really died. Not only was he
not afraid to die, but he desired to die. His weary flesh and weary
spirit desired it, and why should the flame of him not go utterly out?

But his mind that could will life or death, still pulsed on. He saw the
two whale-boats land on the beach, and the sick, on stretchers or pick-a-
back, groaning and wailing, go by in lugubrious procession. He saw the
wind makin