“Get up, Pierre. You should be ashamed of yourself!”  
It needed a strong and firm grasp to force the terrified lad to his feet and even when he, at last, stood up he shivered like an aspen.
 
“A grave!”
 
“Certainly. A grave. But neither yours nor mine. Only that of some poor fellow who has died in the . I’m sorry I piled the brush upon it, yet glad we discovered it in the end.”
 
“Gla-a-ad!” the other.
 
“Yes. Of course. I mean to cover it with fresh sods and plant some of those purple at its head. I’ll cut a headstone, too, and mark it so that nobody else shall it as we have done.”
 
[Pg 189]
 
“You mustn’t touch it! It’s nobody’s—only a warning.”
 
“A warning, surely; that we must take great care lest a like fate come on us; but somebody lies under that and I pity him. Most probable that he lost his life in that very whirlpool which us. Twice I’ve been upset and lost all my , but escaped safe. I hope I’ll not run the same chance again. Come. Lie down again, and go to sleep.”
 
“Couldn’t sleep; to try in such a haunted place would be to be ‘spelled’——”
 
“Pierre Ricord! For a fellow that’s so smart at some things you are the biggest dunce I know, in others. Haven’t we slept like lords ever since we struck this camp? I’m going to make my bed up again and turn in. I advise you to do the same.”
 
Adrian tossed the branches aside, then rearranged them, lapping the soft ends over the hard ones in an orderly row which would have pleased a housewife. Thus freshened [Pg 190]his odorous was as good as new, and stretching himself upon it he went to sleep immediately.
 
Pierre intended to keep awake; but and loneliness prevailed, and five minutes later he had crept close to Adrian’s side.
 
The sunshine on his face, and the sound of a knife cutting wood awoke him; and there was Adrian away at a broad of cedar, smiling and , and in the best of spirits, despite his rather solemn occupation.
 
“For a fellow who wouldn’t sleep, you’ve done pretty well. See. I’ve caught a fish and set it cooking. I’ve picked a pile of berries, and have nearly finished this headstone. Added another to my many—monument . But I’m wrong to laugh over that, though the poor unknown to whom it belongs would be grateful to me, I’ve no doubt. Lend a hand, will you?”
 
But nothing would induce Pierre to engage in any such business. Nor would he touch [Pg 191]his breakfast while Adrian’s knife was busy. He sat apart, looking anywhere rather than toward his mate, and talking over his shoulder to him in a strangely voice.
 
“Adrian!”
 
“Well?”
 
“Most done?”
 
“Nearly.”
 
“What you going to put on it?”
 
“I’ve been wondering. Think this: ‘To the Memory of My Unknown Brother.’”
 
“Wh-a-a-t!”
 
Adrian repeated the .
 
“He was no to you.”
 
“We are all kin. It’s all one world, God’s world. All the people and all these forests, and the creatures in them—I tell you I’ve never heard a sermon that touched me as the sight of this grave in the wilderness has touched me. I mean to be a better, kinder man, because of it. Margot was right, none of us has a right to his own self. She told me often that I should go home to my own [Pg 192]folks and make everything right with them; then, if I could, come back and live in the woods, somewhere. ‘If I felt I must.’ But I don’t feel that way now. I want to get back and go to work. I want to live so that when I die—like that poor chap, yonder,—somebody will have been the better for my life. Pshaw! Why do I talk to you like this? Anyway, I’ll set this slab in place, and then——”
 
Pierre rose and still without looking Adrian’s way, pushed the new canoe into the water. He had carefully pitched it, on the day before, with a mixture of the old pork grease and gum from the trees, so that there need be no delay at starting.
 
Adrian finished his work, lettered the slab with a coal from the fire, and re-watered the wild flowers he had already planted.
 
“Aren’t you going to eat breakfast first?”
 
“Not in a graveyard,” answered Pierre, with a solemnity that checked Adrian’s desire to smile.
 
[Pg 193]
 
A last attention, a final clearing of all rubbish from the spot, and he, too, stepped into the canoe and picked up his paddle. They had passed the rapids and reached a smooth stretch of the river, where they had camped, and now pulled and easily away, once more upon their journey south. But not till they had put a considerable distance between themselves and that woodland grave, would Pierre consent to stop and eat the food that Adrian had prepared. Even then, he restricted the amount to be consumed, remarking with doleful conviction:
 
“We’re going to be starved before we reach Donovan’s. The ‘food stick’ burnt off and dropped into the fire, last night.”
 
Adrian remembered that his mate had spoken of it at the time, when by some carelessness, they had not secured the crotched sapling on which they hung their birch kettle.
 
“Oh! you simple thing. Why will you go through life yourself with [Pg 194]such nonsense? Come. Eat your breakfast. We’re going straight to Donovan’s as fast as we can. I’ve done with the woods for a time. So should you be done. You’re needed at the island. Not because of any dreams but because the more I recall of Mr. Dutton’s appearance the surer I am that he is a sick man. You&rsquo............