One of the coolies held the paper lantern. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. The girl only smiled at him serenely, but she laid her hand for a moment quietly upon his. The world had grown dark and wide, and she was very small. I have taken bullets and lived, and even a silver one wouldn’t do much. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave.
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