hough he was
attempting to swim.

Brown followed my advice, and when he saw that there was a certain
prospect of being saved he grew quite calm, and soon I had the
satisfaction of reaching out my hand, grasping one of his own, and
dragging him upon the peninsula, a little the worse for his contact with
the bog, but cheerful, and disposed to regard his adventure in the light
of a joke.

"My dear friend," he exclaimed, clasping my hand, and I thought he was
about to pour forth a profusion of thanks for my services, "let me
advise you to put your trousers on as soon as possible, for these
blasted mosquitoes will devour you alive."

I think that his recommendation was the best evidence of his attachment
that I could possibly have desired, for I had been so inwrapt with the
business before me that I had not heeded the cloud of ferocious insects
hovering around my naked extremities, filling their bodies with my life
blood, and causing me to almost desire a bath in the bog, for the
purpose of getting rid of my tormentors.

I hurried on my clothes without loss of time, and then desired to know
in what manner I could help him.

"Let me get away from this place first, and then secure a wash, and a
change of clothing, for I feel as though I had been fished out of a
molasses hogshead," Mr. Brown said, scraping the mud from his shirt and
pants, and even taking it from his pockets by handfuls.

"What made you run in the manner that you did?" he asked, as I assisted
him to rise.

"I but followed your example, and I begin to think that I followed a
very poor one," I replied.

"I am of the same opinion, for I don't believe that we saw any thing
excepting a ram anxious for a hunting match. Let us return."

As my friend ceased speaking we glanced at the island, and that one look
was sufficient to start us towards the main land in double quick time,
for, standing at the end of the peninsula, with one arm raised in a
threatening manner, as though warning us against a renewed attempt for
the treasure, was the white figure which had first frightened us.

"That is Buckerly's ghost," gasped Mr. Brown, as we gained the palm
trees under which the horses were hitched; "I know it is his spirit,
from the many descriptions which I have heard concerning it."

"What do you propose to do?" I asked, beginning, now that I was some
distance from the object of my terror, to entertain serious doubts in
relation to the spirituality of the visita