I was taken ill and I should have died, but a young French officer stayed his men beside me and cared for me, and had me carried to the coast, where I recovered.

I did not go to Spain, and I found the chart of the river again." There is a pause, in which the deep breathing of the dying man mingles with the low wash of the river, and presently he speaks again.

"I vowed then that he should know.

As God is our Father, swear that you will give this packet to himself only." The priest, in reply, lifts the crucifix from the dying man's breast and puts his lips to it.

The world seems not to know, so cheerful is it all, that, with a sob, that sob of farewell which the soul gives the body,--the spirit of a man is passing the mile-posts called Life, Time, and Eternity.
Yet another glance into passing incidents before we follow the straight trail of our story.