The grave looked very shallow to David, and he was about to protest against his companion's judgment when it occurred to him that Mukoki had probably digged many holes such as this in the earth, and had helped to fill them again, so it was possible he knew his business.
After all, why did people weigh down one's last slumber with six feet of soil overhead when three or four would leave one nearer to the sun, and make not quite so chill a bed?
He was thinking of this as he took a last look at Tavish.

Then he heard the Indian give a sudden grunt, as if some one had poked him unexpectedly in the pit of the stomach.

He whirled about, and stared.
Father Roland stood within ten feet of them, and at sight of him an exclamation rose to David's lips and died there in an astonished gasp.
He seemed to be swaying, like a sick man, in the moonlight, and impelled by the same thought Mukoki and David moved toward him.

The Missioner extended an arm, as if to hold them back.

His face was ghastly, and terrible--almost as terrible as Tavish's, and he seemed to be struggling with something in his throat before he could speak.