'Will it be
here--or here?' I asked, choosing the spot and prodding the sharpened
foot of the cross into the sand. . . . His face blanched.
'You accursed fool!' said I, 'do you suppose I haven't, these four
days, been watching you and the dog?'--and, as I said it, the point
of the mast struck upon timber. 'Come and help me to drive it deep,'
I commanded. 'If we can work it down within reach of mallet, three
taps will drive it so that it will stand firm above such tides as
reach this anchorage of hers.'
"He came down the beach heavily and we heaved our strength together,
driving the cross down by the coffin's head. 'The mallet is handy by
you,' said I. 'Pick it up and use it while I hold steady.'
"This work done, without another word between us, we returned, picked
up axe, saw, and a wallet to collect any specimens of fruit we might
find on our way, and, still without a word, breasted the hill side by
side, the dog running ahead of us.
"We got no farther that day than to the stream which ran between our
hill and the second volcano, the edge of which--like that of our own
broken and truncated one, ran down steeply to the western shore.
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