Five
minutes before it occurred he would have said such a thing was
impossible. It was merely the powerful impulse of self-protection that
had caused him to strike with such deadly effect, and he was sorry. The
man, beyond all doubt, was a robber and murderer who had forfeited his
life a dozen times, and still he was sorry. It was a tragedy to him to
take the life of any one, no matter how evil the fallen might be.

He went back to the house, brought a shovel, one of the numerous ship's
stores, and buried the body at once high up the beach where the greatest
waves could not reach it and wash it away. He did his task to the rumble
of thunder and the flash of lightning, but, when he finished it, dawn
came and then the storm that had threatened but that had never burst
passed away. He felt, though, that it had not menaced him. To him it was
a good storm, kindly and protecting, and giving sufficient help in his
purpose that had succeeded so well.

It was a beautiful day, the air crisp with as much winter as the island
ever knew, and shot with the beams from a brilliant sun, but Robert was
exhausted. He had passed through a night of intense emotions, various,
every one of them poignant, and he had made physical and mental efforts
of his own that fairly consumed the nerves. He felt as if he could lie
down and sleep for a year, that it would take at least that long to
build up his body and mind as they were yesterday.

He dragged himself through the woods, forced his unwilling muscles to
cook a breakfast which he ate. Then he laid himself down on his bed, his
nerves now quiet, and fell asleep at once. When he awoke it was night
and he lay giving thanks for his great escape until he slept again. When
he awoke a second time day had returned, and, rising, he went about his
usual tasks with a light heart.

CHAPTER X

THE SLOOP OF WAR

Robert ate a light breakfast and went out to look at his domain, now
unsullied. What a fine, trim, clean island it was! And how desirable to
be alone on it, when the Gulf and the Caribbean produced only such
visitors as those who had come two nights before! He looked toward the
little bay, fearing to see the topmast of the schooner showing its tip
over the trees, but the sky there, an unbroken blue, was fouled by no
such presence. He was rid of the pirates--and forever he hoped.

It seemed to him that he had passed through an epic time, one of the
great periods of his life. He wonder