ran to Welch. He was not in the boat. She
saw his waistcoat, however, folded and lying on the thwart; so she knew
he could not be far off and concluded he was in her bower. But he was not
there; and she called to Mr. Hazel. He came to the side of the river
laden with cocoanuts.

"Is he with you?" said Helen.

"Who? Welch? No."

"Well, then, he is not here. Oh, dear! something is the matter."

Hazel came across directly. And they both began to run anxiously to every
part whence they could command a view to any distance.

They could not see him anywhere, and met with blank faces at the bower.

Then Helen made a discovery.

This very day, while hanging about the place, Hazel had torn up from the
edge of the river an old trunk, whose roots had been loosened by the
water washing away the earth that held them, and this stump he had set up
in her bower for a table, after sawing the roots down into legs. Well, on
the smooth part of this table lay a little pile of money, a ring with a
large pearl in it, and two gold ear-rings Helen had often noticed in
Welch's ears.

She pointed at these and turned pale. Then, suddenly waving her hand to
Hazel to follow her, she darted out of the bower, and, in a moment, she
was at the boat.

There she found, beside his waistcoat, his knife, and a little pile of
money, placed carefully on the thwart; and, underneath it, his jacket
rolled up, and his shoes and sailor's cap, all put neatly and in order.

Hazel found her looking at them. He began to have vague misgivings. "What
does this mean?" he said faintly.

"'What does it mean!'" cried Helen, in agony. "Don't you see? A legacy!
The poor thing has divided his little all. Oh, my heart! What has become
of him?" Then, with one of those inspirations her sex have, she cried,
"Ah! Cooper's grave!"

Hazel, though not so quick as she was, caught her meaning at a word, and
flew down the slope to the seashore. The tide was out. A long irregular
track of footsteps indented the sand. He stopped a moment and looked at
them. They pointed toward that cleft where the grave was. He followed
them all across the sand. They entered the cleft, and did not return.
Full of heavy foreboding he rushed into the cleft.

Yes; his arms hanging on each side of the grave, and his cheek laid
gently on it, there lay Tom Welch, with a loving smile on his dead face.
Only a man; yet faithful as a dog.

Hazel went back slowly, and crying. Of all men living, he c