Gods came over me, and I cursed his slayer. Never had I spoken so
fiercely; men stood and wondered. I prayed the Gods to make the wretch
who had caused my darling's death miserable by land and by sea, by day
and by night, in the field and at the board, loathed by his friends, and
scorned by his foes. The Gods heard my imprecations; as I turned my eyes
skywards they looked from their clouds, wrath kindling on their brows,
and Algar's face was white with fear, his hand trembled and his knee
shook.

"'We must bury him,' he faltered.

"'Yea,' said I, 'but in a hero's grave, and after the custom of our
fathers.'

"There was a murmur of applause. Algar could not refuse.

"They brought the choicest of the boats, they made the sails bright and
gay, they put in it the dead man's arms, and food to accompany him to
the land of spirits. Then they bound him before the mast, his face
turned seaward. At sundown they towed the boat to deep water, so pierced
her that she might sink slowly under the waves, and then they left the
hero to his rest. I had gone out with them: alone I said to him my last
farewell. But they did not know my secret. They did not guess that I had
ascertained by my art that life was yet in him, that I had poured
between his lips subtle drops which would maintain animation for many
days and nights, during which consciousness might be restored; nor did
they imagine that when I kneeled before him I had stopped the leak by
which the water was to flow into the doomed boat. Algar was now the
deceived; it was a living man, not a corpse, who started on that voyage.
Haco lives still, though where my art cannot tell. I thought that Marie