First came Loyola, walking slowly with bent head and one hand on Jim's shoulder; but it was the sight of what was behind her drew the cry from his lips, for on the shoulders of Broncho and the man-of-war's man lay the body of a man. The rover rushed forward. "Hawksley's cashed in!" came in a solemn voice from Broncho, as he reached his side; but there was little need of the words. The fact was evident enough. "You hanged him after all?" burst out Jack, with a queer strangle of reproach in his voice. "No, pard; it ain't our funeral. The angels finished our job," explained the cowboy quietly. The body was covered with the boat-sail and laid under the big palm; then the castaways flung themselves down to sleep, worn out by the tragic events of the night. Nobody awoke until long after sun-up, and as Broncho was serving out their scanty rations, Tari appeared out of the scrub and slunk into a corner with downcast eyes. Jack awoke to find himself blind again, but as he felt the woman's hand in his, he knew that she was at last free, and, notwithstanding his blindness, a great comfort flooded his soul. At breakfast Jim explained his share in the tragic lynching to the astonished bosun's mate and Broncho, and the mystery of the supernatural voice was cleared up. At midday the body of Hawksley was buried at the foot of the big palm in silence. After the exciting events of the first twenty-four hours, life on the atoll progressed smoothly enough. At first the shock of the tragedy seemed to stun Loyola's overstrained senses, but gradually, as the lazy, uneventful days passed, the memory of all the late horrors wore off, and a great hope of future happiness in Jack's arms filled her heart. She began to pick up spirits and show more of that sunny disposition, with its infectious gaiety, which had been such a feature of her character before her unfortunate marriage. At times a snatch of song would burst from her lips, which caused a smile of satisfaction to flit over the faces of the castaways, and she owned a devoted slave in each one of them. "My, boys! but she's good gear!" commented Bill enthusiastically, one lazy afternoon, indicating Loyola with his pipe as he reclined under the cocoa-palms. She and Jack, deep in talk, were pacing up and down the beach, hand in hand, for such was their custom on account of the latter's blindness.