st be so, it must; but it
appears to me an idea so ridiculous--however, you shall have your own
way."

Philip quitted the run, and sat down by Krantz, who was already busy
in shaking the doubloons out of the folds of his sash; at last he
said--

"I believe, Philip, you have got them all, now?--I feel satisfied."

"What danger there can be to you, which I am not equally exposed to, I
cannot conceive," replied Philip; "however--"

Hardly had he said these words, when there was a tremendous roar--a
rush like a mighty wind through the air--a blow which threw him on
his back--a loud cry--and a contention. Philip recovered himself, and
perceived the naked form of Krantz carried off with the speed of
an arrow by an enormous tiger through the jungle. He watched with
distended eyeballs; in a few seconds the animal and Krantz had
disappeared!

"God of Heaven! would that Thou hadst spared me this," cried Philip,
throwing himself down in agony on his face. "Oh! Krantz, my friend--my
brother--too sure was your presentiment. Merciful God! have pity--but
Thy will be done;" and Philip burst into a flood of tears.

For more than an hour did he remain fixed upon the spot, careless
and indifferent to the danger by which he was surrounded. At last,
somewhat recovered, he rose, dressed himself, and then again sat
down--his eyes fixed upon the clothes of Krantz, and the gold which
still lay on the sand.

"He would give me that gold. He foretold his doom. Yes! yes! it was
his destiny, and it has been fulfilled. _His bones will bleach in
the wilderness_, and the spirit-hunter and his wolfish daughter are
avenged."

The shades of evening now set in, and the low growling of the beasts
of the forest recalled Philip to a sense of his own danger. He thought
of Amine; and hastily making the clothes of Krantz and the doubloons
into a package, he stepped into the peroqua, with difficulty shoved it
off, and with a melancholy heart, and in silence, hoisted the sail,
and pursued his course.

"Yes, Amine," thought Philip, as he watched the stars twinkling and
corruscating. "Yes, you are right, when you assert that the destinies
of men are foreknown, and may by some be read. My destiny is, alas!
that I should be severed from all I value upon earth, and die
friendless and alone. Then welcome death, if such is to be the case;
welcome a thousand welcomes! what a relief wilt thou be to me! what
joy to find myself summoned to where the weary are at