Stark instantly bent to raise his friend, but he could not. Himself he dropped to his knees; then, with a great struggle, stood again upon his freezing feet. "Go, lad--go," said the fallen man. "By stopping you slay us both. Hold on to the light if you can. Speed--speed! Death is alongside now--ready to board----" Stark knew the truth of this, and, striving in vain to note some mark that should indicate where Miller lay, he turned whence the light had shone. "Trust me then. I'll get back in time! Don't sleep--keep shouting--keep shouting. We'll save you yet!" Stark spoke cheerily as though already in the company of other men; but his hope perished as he turned and saw his friend a silent spot in the darkness--already half obliterated by snow. A sob rose in the man's throat, and he felt a tear like a spark of fire upon his cheek. "The end of him--the cruel, bitter end of a great sailor and a good man. God's curse on those that murdered him!" The cry came thickly and the shrieking wind carried it away. Stark staggered against the hill, sometimes upon his feet, sometimes on his knees. The light gleamed fitfully and directed him across the storm. Now it vanished behind curtains of snow; now it broke through once more, placid of flame and mellow of hue. Higher it towered and higher, until it seemed to the wanderer immediately above him. But even as he looked up to it, the sailor fell into a little rivulet and struggled with fresh bruises on to the further bank. A steep slope still subtended the space between himself and the shining window. The light beckoned him forward and forces unseen denied any further advance. He could stand no longer, but grovelled on yard by yard. Then a wall buried in the snow, raised a barrier, mountainous to his feebleness, and he remained motionless beneath it for a full minute. Peace was there and delicious silence. The snow warmed him; the coverlet crept up and up. It was pulled over his breast, neck, head, by gentle hands. He remembered his mother and her cradle-songs in his childhood. "'Tis the great Mother tucking me up," he thought. For a moment, as it seemed, the glow of health and vigour drove his blood along. Life was kissing him and saying 'good-bye.' His eyes shut; all present things began to sink away out of his mind. He smiled indifferently and, turning back along the pathway of consciousness, retraced his life's short road and passed its memories in final review. He remembered the defeat of the _Marblehead_ and felt the sharp grief of failure. He saw the 'Stars and Stripes' flutter down, as the dying see their last sun sink; and that darkest emotion of his days reawakened now, mercifully held force enough to shatter the snow-trance. He opened his eyes, found an impulse of restored energy from his short respite, saw the light clear and sharp above, and surmounted the stone wall, but fell prone upon the other side. Then, with a