The black clad students streamed slowly to their positions carrying their instruments like offerings to the pilgrimage. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. "Has any one been here?" he asked. " "Of course—of course," returned Wood, hastily; "anything's better than that. She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds. She looked at him mournfully.
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