Over the first two graves the sand was heaped high, forming, as far as possible, a barrier for the third. Shallow that third grave was,--so shallow that a man could scarce lie therein and be concealed; but so it must be that the sand might not be too heavy on the body, and yet seem to be piled up. Tenderly Peter lifted that last silent figure and stretched it in the hollow made for it; then, while he still stooped, he broke the frail stitches of the blanket, and snatching two pieces of driftwood he put them crosswise over the head of the grave with their ends on the edges. The hollow space below might contain enough air to last a man a little while. "Stay, here is piece of hollow cane in the sand," said the assistant, "keep one end of it over your mouth, Richard; we will leave the other just out of the sand; in this way you can breathe longer.--So." "Quick, quick; the shovels! The guard is returning," cried Peter. It seemed to them that their shovels crawled, and yet they worked like mad. If the guard got there before they finished, all was lost. Spadeful after spadeful,--was ever a man so hard to cover? Another step and the sentinel would be upon them, and the blanket scarcely hidden, and those tell-tale boards and the cane yet in sight. It was a fearful moment. Peter's heart stood still, and his comrade's hands were like ice. "What the devil are you so long about?" But it was only the angry voice that reached them; a blinding lightning flash ripped the heavens wide open, and the wind with a demoniacal shriek rushed down the beach, throwing the sand in a swirling cloud about the on-coming man, making him stagger with its force and snatching away his hat and rain coat. Half blinded, he raced down the sloping stretch to regain his garments which more than once eluded him. Then in the lull he came back swearing furiously; and finding the men leaning on their shovels, he stuck his bayonet into each of the three mounds. Into the third it penetrated only a little way; but he did not notice, for the wind was again gathering itself for a fresh burst of fury. "Now then, get you to the boats!" he cried, standing behind them. Peter paused a moment and crossed himself reverently, saying in a loud voice, "Your bodies to the earth, your souls to God's care; and may you pass to liberty in the folds of the in-rolling fog." "Pass to hell and the devil! Get on, I say!" cried the guard, angrily, as he struck Peter across the shoulders with his bayonet. And Peter, having said his say, ran nimbly to the boat; and pushing it off, they leaped in, and were soon toiling amid the breakers to reach the ship's side.