He returned as he spoke to the grave, and resumed his former toil.

My lord stood rooted, and I at my lord's side, fearing I knew not

what.

The frost was not yet very deep, and presently the Indian threw

aside his tool, and began to scoop the dirt by handfuls. Then he

disengaged a corner of a buffalo robe; and then I saw hair catch

among his fingers: yet, a moment more, and the moon shone on

something white. Awhile Secundra crouched upon his knees, scraping

with delicate fingers, breathing with puffed lips; and when he

moved aside, I beheld the face of the Master wholly disengaged. It

was deadly white, the eyes closed, the ears and nostrils plugged,

the cheeks fallen, the nose sharp as if in death; but for all he

had lain so many days under the sod, corruption had not approached

him, and (what strangely affected all of us) his lips and chin were

mantled with a swarthy beard.

"My God!" cried Mountain, "he was as smooth as a baby when we laid

him there!"

"They say hair grows upon the dead," observed Sir William; but his

voice was thick and weak.

Secundra paid no heed to our remarks, digging swift as a terrier in

the loose earth. Every moment the form of the Master, swathed in

his buffalo robe, grew more distinct in the bottom of that shallow

trough; the moon shining strong, and the shadows of the standers-

by, as they drew forward and back, falling and flitting over his

emergent countenance. The sight held us with a horror not before

experienced. I dared not look my lord in the face; but for as long

as it lasted, I never observed him to draw breath; and a little in

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