Bart set down the case and Dinny the lantern beneath the cocoa-nut trees close by the levelled patch of shore; and then, with the dull light shining through the horn panes upon the sand, the two men stood in the midst of the faint halo listening to the soft whispering of the tide among the shingle, and the more distant boom of the surf. "It's an unked job," said Bart at last. "But, poor lad, it's the skipper's wish. A lovely spot for a man to be put to rest." Dinny did not speak for a few moments. Then with an effort-- "Let's get it done, me lad. I niver belaved in annything worse than the good people, and the phooka, and the banshee, of coorse; but it makes a man's flesh seem to crape over his bones to come body-snatching, as ye may call it, on a dark night like this." They both stood hesitating and shrinking from their task for a few minutes longer, and then Bart stooped down and began to sweep back the sand. "It's laid light over him, Dinny, my lad," he said. "Just sweep it away, and we can lift him into his coffin." "But--" "He's wrapped in a canvas for his winding sheet, lad. Sweep away the sand there from his feet." Dinny bent down and was in the act of scooping away the dry sand when he uttered a yell and darted away, followed by Bart, who was somewhat unnerved by his weird task, and who did not recover himself till they reached the boat. "Here, what is it?" cried Bart, recovering himself, and grasping Dinny by the arm, feeling indignant now at his own cowardice. "Are you afraid of a dead man?" "No; but he isn't dead!" panted Dinny. "What?" "As soon as I touched him I felt him move!" "Dinny, you're a fool!" cried Bart, in an exasperated tone of voice. "I wish he was alive, poor lad!" "I tell you," cried Dinny, catching his arm, "he moved in his grave--I felt it plain!" "Come back!" said Bart, fiercely. "Divil a bit!" "Come back!" "Divil a bit, I say!" "You coward!" cried Bart. "Am I to go and do it alone?" "No, no, Bart, me lad, don't thry it. There's something quare about the owld business." "Yes," said Bart, savagely. "You turned coward and upset me. I don't know whether I'm most ashamed of you or of myself." He walked straight back toward where the soft yellow light of the lantern could be seen under the trees, leaving Dinny staring, trembling, and scratching his head. "He's gone and left me alone," muttered Dinny. "Sure, and is it a Kelly as is a coward? If it was to face a man--or two men--or tin men--I'd do it if I had me shtick. But a dead body as begins to move in its grave as soon as ye thry to lift it out, and says quite plain, wid a kick of its legs, `Lave me alone, ye spalpeen!' why, it's too much for a boy." "Are you coming, Dinny?" cried Bart, as he approached the lantern.