292 WILD 6POETS IN THE SOUTH. 



liis only Son, our Lord." His voice, that was faltering, 

 grew strong, the tears that were raining o'er his cheeks 

 grew dry, and the triumph of his voice, as he proclaimed 

 the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting, was 

 like the march of a triumphal chorus, to which all res- 

 ponded, Amen ! 



Mike stepped into the grave and turned down the 

 blanket over the face of his friend, our host and our com- 

 rade, and laid beside him his hunting-knife and rifle a 

 kindly care he had learned from his Indian habits and 

 then the grave was filled up, all the dirt was carefully 

 placed back, or thrown in the sea, the ashes drawn to 

 their place, and the fire re-kindled. The boats were 

 reloaded, a piece of canvas was stretched on poles to 

 imitate a tent, -and one canoe that we did not need was 

 left in plain sight on the beach, with a log or two half in 

 the water to represent the others. This ruse was done to 

 attract and occupy the attention of the Indians, who would 

 be searching for us the next day, and who would thus 

 be drawn away, for a time, from our real course. There 

 lacked about two hours to daylight when we took to the 

 boats and called away the dogs. They all came but 

 Duke, who still sat by the fire, until one of the negroes 

 carried him to the boat and placed him in ; - but as 

 we started he jumped out and ran back to, the spot 

 where he had seen his master buried. The negro 

 went back again, but the dog resisted and set up one of 

 those long plaintive howls foT which the true deer-hound 

 is so remarkable, and which echoed from shore to shore 



