rs.

The mariners presented arms.

And the old passenger, pointing to the dazzled gunner, added:

"Now, have this man shot."

Dismay succeeded the cheering.

Then in the midst of the death-like stillness, the old man raised his
voice and said:

"Carelessness has compromised this vessel. At this very hour it is perhaps
lost. To be at sea is to be in front of the enemy. A ship making a voyage
is an army waging war. The tempest is concealed, but it is at hand. The
whole sea is an ambuscade. Death is the penalty of any misdemeanor
committed in the face of the enemy. No fault is reparable. Courage should
be rewarded, and negligence punished."

These words fell one after another, slowly, solemnly, in a sort of
inexorable metre, like the blows of an axe upon an oak.

And the man, looking at the soldiers, added:

"Let it be done."

The man on whose jacket hung the shining cross of Saint-Louis bowed his
head.

At a signal from Count de Boisberthelot, two sailors went below and came
back bringing the hammock-shroud; the chaplain, who since they sailed had
been at prayer in the officers' quarters, accompanied the two sailors; a
sergeant detached twelve marines from the line and arranged them in two
files, six by six; the gunner, without uttering a word, placed himself
between the two files. The chaplain, crucifix in hand, advanced and stood
beside him. "March," said the sergeant. The platoon marched with slow
steps to the bow of the vessel. The two sailors, carrying the shroud,
followed. A gloomy silence fell over the vessel. A hurricane howled in the
distance.

A few moments later, a light flashed, a report sounded through the
darkness, then all was still, and the sound of a body falling into the sea
was heard.

The old passenger, still leaning against the mainmast, had crossed his
arms, and was buried in thought.

Boisberthelot pointed to him with the forefinger of his left hand, and
said to La Vieuville in a low voice:

"La Vendee has a head."

TONTON

BY A. CHENEVIERE

There are men who seem born to be soldiers. They have the face, the
bearing, the gesture, the quality of mind. But there are others who have
been forced to become so, in spite of themselves and of the rebellion of
reason and the heart, through a rash deed, a disappointment in love, or
simply because their destiny demanded it, being sons of soldiers and
gentlemen. Such is the case of my friend Captain Robert de X----. And I
said to