COLONEL ODMINTON
A SEQUEL TO
"A REPUBLIC WITHOUT A PRESIDENT."
The Colonel paced his cabin alone. The new expression which successmodels was becoming intensified from day to day upon his face. He hadoutwitted the greatest nation in the world; he had defied the bestdetective service of modern times; he was rich beyond his dizziestdreams; he could aspire to any position; he would be an eastern princeperhaps, and drowsy-looking girls should wave peacock fans and soothehis memory to rest with crooning songs. What a delicious future he sawrising before him! His consummate stroke of piracy should purchase him alife of lotus ease.
The Colonel, had at last achieved; and, as is too often the case withextraordinary success, his stupendous act had robbed him of vitality andinvention. Already he felt and acknowledged a dismemberment of his will.But a few days before, he was of all men, the most alert, the mostingenious, the most courageous, the most ambitious; while now, he livedin dreams, which he evoked as persistently as the witch of Endor evokedthe ghost of Saul. His nature had undergone a revolution, in which hegloried. Had he been poor, he would not have accepted his suddenenervation without a struggle. But he was rich--thank God! rich--andrejoiced that he was to gratify his new-born languor.
His son alone had access to his luxurious cabin. That boy, who had beenthe ready and ignorant accomplice of his father's picturesque villainy,had already begun to grow thin with shame. He saw his father transformedfrom a virile into a sleek man. He himself had changed during the fewdays of his knowledge of the secret from a pliant boy into a silentaccusation. The Colonel could not look his son straight in the eyes.This was the first warning to his diseased mind that he was not thegreatest man of his age.
The Colonel had moreover a sense of security that unapprehendedmalefactors cannot feel. The pledge of the United States Government hadbeen solemnly given. He could not be punished. His freedom was assured.Whenever he paced the deck, he filled his lungs with the pure, salt air,and allowed them to expand without stint. There was nothing contractedon his horizon. True, he had lost his country--but he had gained wealth.He felt sure of admiration, and of some applause. He remembered that anunextradited bank-robber had purchased a barony from the King ofWuertemburg, and had lived there much respected. What position might henot buy with his American gold?
Still, he was haunted by a feeling of mingled dissatisfaction and unrestthat marred the pride he felt in his own achievement. Was it due to hisson's speechless denunciation? Or did it come from the fact that hisauthority seemed to be impaired? There was no insubordination nor mutinyamong the sailors. It had not gone so far as that, with the well-paidand well-fed men. Perhaps it never would. But men do not easily obey ascoundrel or an outlaw except when it is understood that they are felonsthemselves.
In a certain sense the crew of the "Lightning" rejoiced in theirmaster's superb feat. The venom of piracy had entered their veins. Theyfirmly believed that Colonel Odminton would soon cast off his mask, andturn the most wonderful product of marine architecture into anirresistible pirate craft.
They dreamed of an inaccessible island--of confused wealth, of manyvices, and unrestricted carousals. Therefore they still obeyed readily,but with an air of _abandon_ that puzzled their commander. But ColonelOdminton did not suspect these natural speculations, for he was lookingforward to a life of great respectability as well as of unrivalledluxury.
For ten days or so, the "Lightning" danced over the Atlantic. Of course,it must come to shore somewhere. People cannot live on gold. They musteat. The superb electric vessel had ice-making machines; and retorts fordistilling the salt water into fresh; but no electrodes were there, toreduce wood to sugar or coal to beef. The Colonel felt his cheek stingwith the excitement of coming to land. At the same time he felt areluctance to do so. He dreaded to meet men. He could not expel theconsciousness that is common to all culprits,--namely, the feeling thathe would be the centre of observation. He could not be apprehended; butsupposing that he were not well received?
On the other hand, when the crew learned of the decision to make forland, they were almost riotous with joy. They were mad for thelong-delayed chance to spend their high wages in vice and drink. Ifnations would conspire to pass an international law to prohibit womenand rum at every port, what a magnificent stride to uninterruptedmanhood all sailors would be forced to take!
But Captain Hans Christian shook his head as the "Lightning" forgedtoward the land.
There were some traits that Rupert did not inherit. His limpid heartunderstood the disgrace of his position. He pined for freedom andgradually wasted away. With feverish eyes he watched for the Englishcoast. It is possible that he had, bereft of an honest father, meditateddesertion at his first opportunity.
Now, at last, they sighted land. The vessel that was swifter than allother ships afloat, was undisguised. The Colonel had no thought ofconverting her into the "Mary Jane" again. No flight, no concealment wasnow necessary. It was just past sunrise when the "Lightning" glided intothe troubled harbor of Penzance.
The inhabitants of Land's End are no stay-a-beds, and when theoil-skinned fishermen, who were ready to push their boats off in therising tide, lifted up their eyes and beheld the graceful monstermysteriously undulating in, with no help of sails or steam, they calledto each other, they uttered direful exclamations, and they assembled inever increasing groups upon the sands. One ran to the public house andbrought back to the throng a greasy proclamation, upon which the pictureof a vessel was stamped.
Upon the cliffs, red-coats pointed to the stranger, and shook theirheads ominously.
Before the "Lightning" had dropped her anchor, the whole population ofPenzance was out, gesticulating, pointing, execrating.
"That's she, sure enough. That's her sheer in the pictur'. Them's thedi-mensions given. Blast the pirates! Old England hain't no place forthem."
"'Ere, Bill! you get the Colonel down. We'll send 'em buzzin' to DavyJones' locker if they ventur' ashore here!"
The "Lightning" had come to anchor without colors at her stern. As shehad no mast, there was no opportunity to fly a signal at her head, orthe Union Jack at her peak. After the manner of steam yachts she had apole that could be fitted in a raking position aft.
"As it isn't eight bells, we need no flags," explained Colonel Odminton.
"Shall we fly the Union Jack, then?" asked Captain Hans Christian.
The Colonel changed color. "Fly?" he snarled, "By ----! Fly nothing!"
The men on board had noticed the confusion on the shore. They thoughtlittle of it.
When they had escaped down the Potomac with the ransom, they forgot thata hundred cameras were trained upon them. Even their stupendous speedcould not outstride the sensitive plate that can catch a perfectlikeness in one two-thousandth part of a second. The duplex shutter iscraftier than the criminal. The camera can outwit the cannon ball.
It did not occur to the Colonel that the United States Government wouldsend proclamations to every friendly nation in the world, begging eachto distribute them broadcast to every port; and that these contained areproduced picture of Colonel Odminton's venture, with a description ofhimself; calling upon the nations to do him no harm, but to grant him nohospitality whatever. While the Colonel was dawdling across the water,the telegraph and the swift "Liners," had alarmed the world.
There was neither admiration nor mercy in the hearts of the millions whowere watching for the "Lightning's" appearance. For once, there were nosentimental women waiting to cosset the bandit. He had held thePresident's wife his prisoner. At last the soft heart of womanhood wasturned to stone.
In short, Colonel Odminton and his crew were declared outcasts from theworld; and even the most abandoned nations sprang to the appeal of theUnited States, and stood ready to enforce the decree.
Colonel Odminton watched his launch approaching the beach. He had notallowed his son to go, and the two stood together facing the enragedtown. Already the coast guards were drawn up, awaiting the launch. Wheni
t had come within fifty yards of the pier, the man in command,cried:--"Stop her!" in a loud voice.
Captain Christian obeyed quickly. He and his crew were near enough tosee that the hand of every inhabitant had grasped a stone, ready tohurl. Hate distorted the faces of the honest Englishmen, whotraditionally loathed a pirate worse than a papist.
"We will give you half an hour to leave the harbor!" bawled the Captainat the launch. "My orders are to fire upon every one of you who attemptsto land. There is no landing for pirates on England's shores. Get out!"
"D---- ye, get out!" The refrain was caught up from throat to throat andhurled at the frightened sailors. The shouts reached to the vessel,until the Colonel easily understood their import. But neither he norhis, as yet, knew that the sight of this beautiful vessel would raise asimilar howl of hate, a like demonstration of hostility, in every portfrom China, westward to San Francisco.
Hastily he gave orders to trip the anchor: in ten minutes he picked uphis men, who were cursing civilization. With the pale skin cramped uponhis face, with trembling hands and blinded eyes he guided the"Lightning" out of the inhospitable harbor.
In an hour the world knew what had happened at Penzance. The smallestharbor on the English and French coast thrilled with the excitement ofthe novel sport, while Colonel Odminton sat in his cabin alone, bereftof his complacency, and beginning to be touched with the terrors thatthe hunted fox feels when it sights the first hound.
"Where now?" Captain Christian had been knocking gently, and now openedhis commander's door for orders. The Captain was a cautious man, and wasthe only one on board, who by reason of his temperament, felt theserious position to the full.
Colonel Odminton turned his head moodily, and scowled at his Captain.
"To hell with you!" he ejaculated.
"Yes, sir," said Captain Christian respectfully, "but we cannot getprovisions there."
* * * * *
It was deepest night when a gurgling thud, a splash of returning waters,a rustling of chain, told that another anchor had been dropped, and thatanother vessel had found rest in the harbor of Brest. Her side lightswere quickly extinguished, and a white light at her bow as she swung tothe tide, told curious eyes, if there were any, that the stranger wassnug for the night. Four bells tinkled here and tinkled there, nor didthe new-comer omit the resonant salutation to Father Time.
To starboard and to port, great hulls, not many hundred feet away, couldbe distinguished by the sharpest eyes, rising blacker than the night.The Mediterranean squadron of France had but made port the day before,and were due in Cherbourg on the morrow. The last patient launch hadbrought the last gay officer aboard, and peace commanded the formidablefleet.
Through the port-holes, veiled with silk, a light glimmered from theunconscious vessel that had just dipped anchor. Colonel Odminton, atthat moment, was parting the curtains from his son's bed, and wasregarding him with conflicting expressions. The lad slept restlessly,and under his father's eyes began to toss and mutter. Fearing to wakenhim, the unhappy man withdrew softly to his own cabin. There he pouredhimself out a full glass of brandy and began to pace the floorfuriously.
It was a changed face that looked apprehensively at the door every timethe timbers creaked in the chop of the sea. He was no longer theelegant, complacent, and successful criminal; he was the bandit at bay.He was distrustful, suspicious, ready for revenge. If he had only hadGatling guns aboard, he would have taught the inhabitants of Penzance acostly lesson for their threats and curses. Now, for the first time herebelled against his lineage, and hated Englishmen and England with avirulent abhorrence.
But France was different. Tolerant blood ran in her veins. Here he feltsecure from insult. The nation that had died in ecstasy under the nod ofNapoleon, could not be otherwise than liberal to him. Colonel Odmintondid not exactly expect a reception by the President of the Republic; buthe did look forward to a respectful and harmless curiosity that wouldtitillate his pride and remove the memory of his indignities.
His face began to assume a more benevolent expression, and the cowering,snarling look which comes to those who find themselves detested for goodreasons, and thrust out, gave way to one of hope, such as comes to theconvict when his term of imprisonment is nearly over.
Soothed by such imaginations, the Colonel smiled with disdain, snappedhis finger at all the world, furtively examined his secret safe, andwent to bed.
It did not seem to him that he had been slumbering as many minutes as hehad hours, when he was startled by a violent tramping upon the deckabove him, by the clanking revolutions of the machinery that hoisted theanchor, and then, before he had mastered his laggard senses, byimperative knocks at his door. Colonel Odminton pulled the spring, andhis Captain bounded in. Terror was engraved on every line of thatusually calm and observant face.
"For God's sake!" he cried in broken English and Danish, "we are to beblown up in ten minutes!" His jaws chattered without saying any more. Hewas stiff with fear.
With inconceivable rapidity Colonel Odminton thrust himself into hisclothes and rushed upon deck. He had not time to put on his cap, and ashe emerged in the rosy light of the breaking sun, his bare head was seenin all its now notorious characteristics. A cry greeted him.
Encompassed about by the huge mastiffs of war, more formidable thananything the vaunted navy of the United States could boast, the toyterrier shivered.
At the earliest dawn, the look-out upon the "Formidable" had discernedthe stranger, and had reported the suspicious-looking vessel to hissuperior officer.
The French Republic, so friendly to the Government of the United States,had eagerly distributed placards describing the nefarious Colonel andhis yacht. But yesterday, copies had been delivered into the hands ofthe officers of the squadron with orders to keep a sharp watch for theoutlaw. He was not to be harmed, but to be driven away from France, ifnecessary, at the torpedoes breath.
The Admiral gave quick orders, which were enthusiastically obeyed. Afleet of launches were now untethered upon the "Lightning."
"No masts! No steam! Propelled by electricity! It is she!" Suchexclamations mixed with oaths were exchanged by the Frenchmen as theysurrounded Colonel Odminton's venture.
"Ahoy there!" cried an officer.
The sleepy Scandinavian in the Colonel's pay made no answer. He scowledat France vindictively.
"I know you. I give you ten minutes to depart. Va t'en! Sacre Nom deDieu, if you ever appear on ze coast of France again, pouf! sink!"
By this time the Colonel had appeared on deck. The French natives, ahundred of them, within less than a biscuit's throw of the most eminentmalefactor of the age, gazed at him curiously, and then burst into amedley of curses.
As these envenomed oaths struck Colonel Odminton, he staggered as if hehad been slapped in the face. Carbines were levelled at himthreateningly; but the French officers imperiously gave orders for allweapons to be laid aside.
By this time, Captain Hans had the anchor raised. Although this was doneby electricity, still the men worked furiously. These embryonic piratestottered like their commander with an overwhelming fear.
This terrible, this unexpected, this deadly persecution--how far did itextend? What was its origin? Was it a chance indignation that hadfomented in England, and had leaped the channel, or was it a decree ofoutlawry that was passed by all the world?
It was enough to scatter the Colonel's pride, to tear out of him hiscomplacency. The proud Southerner now knew, like the prisoner atChillon, what it was to feel the hair turn white. An arch traitor maylose his own country, and get a footing in a foreign land, howevercontemptible his position may be: but Colonel Odminton and his crew hadno country whatever to turn to. Civilization had with one accord arisenagainst him. The islands of the sea were three thousand leagues away.
Unsteadily he touched the lever and his ill-omened craft forged ahead.As it did so, it grazed the side of a boat. With a final curse, one ofthe men in the launch stood up, wadded a piec
e of paper in his hands andflung it at the Colonel. It struck the malefactor full in the face. Thepaper itself did not hurt him, but that malicious act was as fatal tohim as if he had been hit in the groin by a French bullet.
Amid derisive shrieks and whistles the "Lightning" sped out of theharbor. The men upon its decks shook their fists at France, and castsinister looks at their employer.
As the Colonel went below, his face white as the silver poplar, hishands trembling like leaves in a storm, he mechanically turned at thecompanionway and picked up the wad of paper that had rolled to the sill.It was a copy of the Proclamation warning every nation not to grant himhospitality; in the name of the American Republic.
* * * * *
Two hours later, the Colonel and his Captain sat opposite each other,talking in low tones. The Proclamation lay open on the table betweenthem.
"It is impossible then to provision her at all," said the Captainslowly; "there is no hope for us, but to surrender or starve: disguiseis impossible."
The Colonel nodded wearily.
"We have food for twenty men for three days; we have power left to gothree thousand knots at ten knots an hour. The men are murmuring; wherecan we renew our power? The yacht is useless in two weeks."
"It is lucky," continued Captain Hans, after a pregnant pause, "thatnone of the men picked up this paper; you would have been knifed beforenight."
If it is possible, Colonel Odminton turned a shade paler, but he did notsay anything. The smallest child could see that he was a broken man.
What a trap had he sprung for himself!
"The case is desperate, sir," began the Captain again. "What do youpropose?"
The Colonel shook his head vacantly.
"We can take the launch, the men, and the gold, abandon her here, andland on the coast. We might escape clear."
The Colonel shook his head vigorously. He was ready to give up his life,but not his venture.
"Then we will go, sir. Pay us, give us the launch, and we will go. Wecannot stay to be starved and tossed upon the sea with not even ajury-mast and a handkerchief."
"Let them go, father!" Rupert had entered from his own room, and stoodpleadingly before the criminal.
The unhappy man looked at his son: back at his Captain; and noddedassent.
"Then we will go now," said the Captain decidedly. "We are within tenmiles of the coast. The launch will carry us easily. Will you give us ahundred thousand in gold? You may keep the rest, you and the boy and thethree niggers."
The Colonel mechanically went to an inner room, unlocked a secret safe,took out a heavy weight of gold and threw it upon the table before theCaptain with a clang.
The stolen money was newly coined, and the gold glistened in theport-hole light. The Captain tied the bag, and held out his hand as hearose. He was honest after his kind, though a masterful man; but theProclamation had thrown him upon his self-interest. Still, he felt sorryfor the man whom the Proclamation had shrivelled.
One of the Colonel's faithful colored sailors was sent to the wheel. Fora half an hour there was a bustle of chests and men. There was acounting of gold, and a commanding and warning voice. Finally there wasa splash, as the powerful launch dipped into the water from its davits.There was a bounding of many feet, and a cry to shove her off.
"Good-bye, Colonel!" one man shouted; but the rest kept a silence. Theyknew that many dangers were before them.
Then the launch became a speck against a gray coast.
"Where now, father?" asked Rupert timidly.
For the first time since the conception of his infamous deed, the manlooked his son straight between the eyes. Both faces were furrowed, andworn, and prematurely aged; the eyes of both were sunken and rigid.
"Home, my son--home," said the Colonel gently.
"Oh, father!" cried the lad.
"Kiss me, my son, if you care to, and now leave me."
* * * * *
The United States had been plunged into a war with Patagonia. The How ofit was a disgrace to the Great Republic. Jingoism had done the deed,and the mischief of the matter was that the Patagonian cruisersoutnumbered our own.
There was scurry in the navy yards, especially within that upon thePotomac. Old, disabled monitors were galvanized into the delusion oflife: guns were hurried to bombard an inhospitable coast thousands ofmiles away.
Officials at their desks were telegraphing cipher dispatches to Englandto furnish vessels of war on hire, which she politely refused to do.Congress was passing an unrestricted maritime bill.
During this hubbub a very unusual thing happened to increase theconfusion of the Navy Department at Washington.
About nine o'clock in the morning, while several ships of war weremaking ready for sea, a foreign torpedo boat was seen to _ricochet_ upthe river, passing by hidden torpedoes as if she were inspired, and thensuddenly, with a swirl, coming to a dead halt before one of the largestof the formidable vessels.
In alarm, the crew of the American flagship was drummed to arms, and thegunners were called to their ports. Evidently the virulent torpedo-boatwas a foe, bent to suicide after she had destroyed. The fact that shecarried no flag, no masts, nothing but a bare hull, made her alarming inthe extreme. It was an apparition of death. The American fleettrembled. At what invincible vessel would the bolt be launched? Officerspaled and swore. At this terrible display of audacity, a paralysis hadovertaken them.
Only a boy was visible on the stern of the ominous stranger. He pulledout a handkerchief and waved it. He seemed to touch a button, and theanchor rattled to its length. Captain and gunners breathed relief. Bythis time the murmur of the arrival had spread, and thousands of quakingmen lined the wharves to inspect the mystery.
At last someone thought of sending a boat to board her. Twenty menmanned a launch and steamed out cautiously.
"Ahoy, there! Where do you belong?" demanded the officer in charge ofthe launch.
"I have a letter to the President of the United States," answered theboy with quivering lips.
"Whose vessel is this? Let down the gangway."
Two black sailors sprang from the hold of the mysterious vessel to obey.
"She belongs to the United States," replied the boy. "Please let me takethe letter. You can take the boat."
Astounded beyond measure, the officer leaped on board. No name wasvisible.
"What is her name?" he asked eagerly.
"She has none. The President can name her. She was called the'Lightning,'" said the boy steadily.
"By ----! I might have known," cried the officer. "Where is He? Who areyou?"
"He is not here. The letter tells, sir. I am his son."
Rupert put both hands upon the spokes of the wheel, and held his head upstraight. He faced the officer who had ordered the chase when the"Lightning" escaped with his country's gold.
What thoughts went through the lad's mind? Did he regret this last andmost quixotic step? Did he long to "up the anchor," and give the signalto fly ahead? Did he regret freedom and lawlessness? Or was his heartthat was broken by disgrace, healed by the atonement?
"Let me have the letter." The officer spoke after a long look at the sonof America's most execrated malefactor. His voice was not harsh, for hedivined how the boy's loyalty to his father and his country reallyblended into an emotion which men call honor.
Rupert put his hand to his breast:--
"My orders are to deliver the letter to the President with my own hand."
"You shall do so. The President is there."
The officer pointed to a high, white monster of distinction. "He isaboard there. He is watching you this minute. Jump in!"
The boy paled. For only a moment his courage deserted him, and he almosttumbled into the launch.
A great crowd of witnesses had gathered about the President, as if toprotect him.
The word "assassin," was whispered from man to man. Even the officercould not command an avenue to the Chief Ex
ecutive.
"Let him be brought," said the President authoritatively. With a marineglass he had watched the motions of the vessel, the boy, and theofficer.
"I know him. Give way there! Let him come alone."
Then the men formed a living circle with the President in its midst, andRupert stood alone with him in it, with head bared, and with a letter inhis shaking hand.
"You are Rupert Odminton," said the President distinctly, after a longsearching gaze. "You have come with a noble purpose. What is it?"
Without answer, with blood beating a wild tattoo, the boy bowed his headin acquiescence. He handed the President the letter. This the Presidenttook, and opened and read. Then he did what the people will not soonforget. He drew the son of his captor towards him, put his left handprotectingly upon the lad's head, and with a ringing voice read theletter aloud.
"Mr. President, and people of the United States:--I thought myself a god, and know myself a felon. I, who meant to instruct the people, have learned a lesson such as even death cannot teach. I render to you my account. My son will show you in what secret safe in the vessel is preserved the gold that I stole from the Treasury. It belongs to the Country. There lack a hundred and twenty thousand dollars. I hereby bequeath the boat to the United States in payment for the balance I owe. It cost much more, and is the fastest vessel in the world. Re-christened, it may be of service in the approaching war; and the stain upon it, which my soul tells me is indelible, may fade. I give my son to you as hostage of my good faith.
"Mr. President, I am without a country. I have no citizenship in the world. I beg you, if your kindness prompts you, to offer me pardon, that my bones may rest upon the soil I love. My son will guide such a messenger of forgiveness to me. Let him be sent soon, if at all, for my crime scourges me so that I cannot live.
"ODMINTON."
"He was no common man," said the Secretary of State, in a voice of greatfeeling. "Mr. President, I suggest that the pardon be sent immediately.I think he has suffered enough."
The President smiled benignly.
"Mr. Secretary," he said, turning to the head of the navy, "shall weaccept the yacht? I think the Treasury will find room for the gold. Canthe navy find room for Colonel Odminton's atonement?"
The eyes of the Secretary of the Navy glistened.
"With that vessel fixed into a torpedo boat, we can whip the world! Ishall put the youngster as middy aboard of her; he understands herbetter than any one else. With your permission, Mr. President, the boyis enrolled, and his commission will be made out at once."
The Secretary bowed deferentially.
"Do you wish to enter the United States navy?" The great head of thenation bent to the lad as he would have to his own son.
"Oh, sir! But my father," cried Rupert, broken by pride and shame andfilial love.
"You will bear the pardon to-morrow," said the President kindly.
"I would rather go now. I think he needs it," whispered Rupert timidly.Then the boy, keyed so high, fell and was borne away.
* * * * *
Who does not love the Everglades when he knows them? The adorer of thewarm woods had rather put his arm about a palmetto, and his cheekagainst its rough surface, than be softly met by the tenderest of women.Oh, the witchery of the moss-waving Everglades!
"Father! Father!"
A longing treble cut the languorous air.
The hidden hut behind the hidden bay was empty.
The boy and the officer searched hastily and fearfully.
"He is in the woods. Oh, you know--come!"
Behind the terror-stricken son the officer plunged into the thicket.Gloomy shades surrounded him. Warm breaths and new odors caressed him.Almost lifted out of the body by these new sensations, he followed withspeeding feet.
"Help! Quick!" The shrill voice recalled him. Before the officer knewit, he was upon a figure kneeling beside a body under a great tree.
"Father! _Father!_ He has forgiven you. It is all right!"
But the pleading voice of the lad faltered into an awful silence. Thesoldier put his hand upon the penitent's head. It was warm. The deadman's arms were outstretched upon the great tree. His body was upon thehuge roots. His lips were as if he had but just kissed the bark.
Did his sin at the last restrain him, that he dared not to touch thesoil of America, and fondle it as his own?
He had died unpardoned: it was to be, that he should be tortured to theend. But as to when he died, they could not tell--for his strong limbswere set; the swarming Southern ants had not desecrated him, and themoaning tree seemed to be explaining that she had kept him warm upon herlap.
He was buried beneath the sod to which, with the home-sickness of thetrue Southerner, he had crawled back to die. They laid the pardon inhis folded hands.
The officer walked out of the Everglades, with bared head. He could notunderstand his own emotion. But the weeping lad followed slowly. Heheard a cadence above the grave. Rupert understood it. It was the dirgeof the Live Oak.
THE END.
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