looked round with a face that was flushed, and two eyes that blazed like
a wild beast's.

"_Voltigeurs de la Garde_," he roared in a voice like a trumpet call,
and then again "_Voltigeurs de la Garde!_"

He waved his hat above is head, and suddenly pitching forwards upon his
face on the sand, he lay all huddled into a little brown heap.

Jim Horscroft and I stood and stared at each other. The coming of the
man had been so strange, and his questions, and now this sudden turn.
We took him by a shoulder each and turned him upon his back. There he
lay with his jutting nose and his cat's whiskers, but his lips were
bloodless, and his breath would scarce shake a feather.

"He's dying, Jim!" I cried.

"Aye, for want of food and water. There's not a drop or crumb in the
boat. Maybe there's something in the bag."

He sprang and brought out a black leather bag, which with a large blue
coat was the only thing in the boat. It was locked, but Jim had it open
in an instant. It was half full of gold pieces.

Neither of us had ever seen so much before--no, nor a tenth part of it.
There must have been hundreds of them, all bright new British
sovereigns. Indeed, so taken up were we that we had forgotten all about
their owner until a groan took our thoughts back to him. His lips were
bluer than ever, and his jaw had dropped. I can see his open mouth now,
with its row of white wolfish teeth.