se, but the effect of the brief colloquy was that Hutchinson drew
from his pocket a small copy of the New Testament and, after glancing
here and there at its opened pages, finally began to read, in a clear
voice and very impressively, the fifteenth chapter of the first epistle
to the Corinthians, reading it through to the end. As he proceeded I
saw poor Nugent slowly and painfully draw up his hands, that had lain
clenched upon the sand beside him, until they were folded upon his
breast in the attitude of prayer. And when at length Hutchinson, with a
steady voice, but with the tears trickling down his cheeks, reached the
passage, "But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory," Nugent's
lips began to move as though he were silently repeating the words. The
chapter ended, Hutchinson remained silent for a few moments, regarding
his patient, who he evidently believed was praying. Suddenly Nugent's
eyes opened wide, and he stared up in surprise at the canvas roof over
his head as though he beheld some wonderful sight; the colour flowed
back into his cheeks and lips, and gradually his face became illumined
with a smile of ecstatic joy.

"Yes," he murmured, "thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory--_the
victory_--victory!" As he spoke his voice rose until the final word was
a shout of inexpressible triumph. Then the colour ebbed away again from
cheeks and lips, a film seemed to gather over the still open eyes, the
death-rattle sounded in the patient's throat, he gasped once, as if for
breath, and then a look of perfect, ineffable peace settled upon the
waxen features. Nugent's gallant soul had gone forth to join the ranks
of the great Captain of his salvation.

CHAPTER SIX.

WE FIND NEW QUARTERS.

It was about half an hour after Nugent's death that young Parkinson, who
had been engaged somewhere outside the tent, came in and said to
Hutchinson--

"The launch, under sail, and with only about half a dozen hands in her,
has just hove in sight from somewhere up the river. None of the other
boats seem to be in company, but as she is flying her ensign at the
peak,"--the launch, it may be mentioned, was rigged as a fore-and-aft
schooner--"I suppose it's all right."

"It is to be hoped so," fervently responded the medico; "goodness knows
we don't want anything further in the nature of a disaster; we've had
quite enough of that sort of thing already. Could you distinguish the
features of any of the people