Supper having been despatched, I heard Jack approaching, while engaged in washing the dishes on the beach--an occupation which time and place can often rob of all its offensiveness, wherefore, most delicate of readers, I am bold enough to mention it. I looked at Jack from my towel and tin plates, and great was my astonishment to behold him in complete hunting-dress, gun in hand, and all accoutred for the chase. “Why, Jack! what’s afoot?” “No game yet,” he answered, smiling; “but I’m to leave you to-night.” “What! to sleep here all by myself?” “Why, yes--you are not afraid, are you?” “No, not afraid exactly.” “The fact is,” said Jack, “a fellow over at Hague promised me a deer-hunt last year, and if I can find him to-night I shall go out with him to-morrow. You can’t shoot, have no gun, and are not much of a walker, so I am sure you would be bored to death.” (I nodded.) Jack continued, “I will walk over to-night, and if I do not meet the hunter will be back bright and early to-morrow morning. If I do not come then, please row over for me to-morrow evening.” “All right, _mon capitaine_.” And, with a wave of the hand, Jack departed, and I was alone. The embers of the camp-fire began to brighten as the darkness fell. The birds and squirrels disappeared. The trunk was stowed safely together with its mess-chest and provisions, and the blankets were spread in the little tent; the milk-jug and butter-bowl were secured by stones in the water, in order to keep them cool. I began my rosary for night prayers, and roamed through the grove over to the northern side of the point, in full view of the steep promontory on the opposite shore. Beyond our own smooth camping-ground the western shore surged up again in all its former wildness. The beads passed slowly through my fingers, and it seemed as if the beauty and loneliness of the scene were absorbing all my faculties, and withdrawing me from instead of raising my thoughts to God and heaven.