Now, Bromley was a man of great resolution and perseverance, and although it was growing dark he had no thought of stopping work; so he called for a pine torch, which Coleman held on the bank above. When the earth gave way, the oak slab with the peculiar inscription, "One who wishes to be forgotten," was tenderly removed and leaned against the hut, to be reverently reset the next day. Annoying as the ants were, the soldiers continued their work with that feeling of awe which always attends the disturbing of a grave; and as they dug they spoke with charity and tenderness of the old man of the mountain. It made them think of the time when they themselves would be laid to rest in the same soil; and if they breathed any inward prayer, it was that their remains might sleep undisturbed. Although they were young, and death seemed a long way off, the thought came to them of the last survivor, and how lonely he would be, and how, when he should die, there would be no one left to bury his poor body in the ground. "Whatever happens," said Philip, "I don't want to be the last." The pine torch flared and smoked in the cool night wind, and lighted the solemn faces of the three soldiers as well as the hole in the earth, where Bromley still stood to his middle. There was yet a little loose earth to be thrown out before they left the work for the night, and Philip had brought some sticks of wood to lay over the grave lest in the morning the bear should begin to dig where they had left off. He had, in fact, come up and seated himself in the circle of light, and was looking on with great interest at their proceedings. "I declare," said Bromley, just then, straightening himself, "I have gone too far already. My spade struck on the coffin--that is, I think it did. Perhaps I had better see what condition it is in. What do you think, Fred?" "No," said Philip; "cover it up." "It will be as well," said Lieutenant Coleman, "now that we have the opportunity, to see that everything is all right. I can't help feeling that the old man's remains are in our care." "Hold the light nearer, then," said Bromley, as he got down on his knees and commenced to paw away the loose earth with his hands. Philip was silent, and, soldier though he was, his face blanched in the neighborhood of one poor coffin. Both the men outside were staring intently into the open grave. The torch-light fell broadly on Bromley's back, and cast a black shadow from his bent body into the space below, where his hands were at work. "Well, this is queer!" said he, straightening his back and showing a surprised face to the light. "I've struck the chime of a cask." "No!" cried Coleman and Philip together. "Yes, I have," said Bromley. "Hand me the spade."