"I have known him since he was a baby; he used to play with my little boy that died, and so I keep thinking of those days." One of the men laughed scoutingly, but the other growled out, "Let the fool have his fling, and give me a light, Carson; my pipe's gone out in this cursed spray." And while their heads were close together, Peter stretched his legs out over the body, that if so it lost for a moment its rigidity, they might not see. It seemed to him an hour before the shore was reached and the landing effected; then he and his assistant carried the bodies high up on the sand. Richard's went first. "He is alive," Peter whispered, as they moved up the beach, "but if you give the faintest hint of it here or on shipboard by word, act, or look, I'll throttle you like a viper." "You need not threaten--I'm no peacher; and besides, I liked the lad, and wish him well; but his chance is slim, and if he is taken, they will torture him like the incarnate fiends." An officer from the patrol, strolling near the boat, called out:-- "How many to-day, Carson?" "Three." "That is an unusual haul; you are thinning them out fast." "Not half fast enough; looks as if the cursed dogs held on to life to spite us." "Well, 'tis said that Howe will bring back plenty of recruits from the French fleet to fill your gaps." "How is that? What is the news?" But Peter was listening eagerly, hoping to catch some bit of outside information. The officer pointed to him with elevated eyebrows, and the guard drove him with imprecations to his task. "Your shovel?--Well, there it is, you son of perdition! Go on, and mind you be quick in hiding that carrion from the crows." Beside the boat, with guns cocked and ready, the three men then talked over the war tidings, while thirty yards up the beach the two grave-diggers fell to their task. Rapidly the two first graves were made and the occupants laid therein with only a muttered prayer from Peter; and so were closed two human chapters in the varying story of life. The wind shrieked in from the sea, edged with foam or stinging sand caught up at the water's edge, and the heavens were like a vast slaty canopy torn now and then by jagged lightning flashes. The scene was a fit setting for the mournful work in hand. Once or twice while the two laboured, one of the guards walked over to look at them, and then wandered back to the boat and his companions.