"Gad's life!" said the stranger, pettishly, "hast no more bones in thy
fat carcass than a jellyfish? Lend a hand, here! Yo, heave ho!" and he
dragged the Padre into an upright position. "Now, then, who and what art
thou?"

The Padre could not help thinking that the question might have more
properly been asked by himself; but with an odd mixture of dignity and
trepidation he began enumerating his different titles, which were by no
means brief, and would have been alone sufficient to strike awe in the
bosom of an ordinary adversary. The stranger irreverently broke in upon
his formal phrases, and assuring him that a priest was the very person
he was looking for, coolly replaced the old man's hat, which had tumbled
off, and bade him accompany him at once on an errand of spiritual
counsel to one who was even then lying in extremity. "To think," said
the stranger, "that I should stumble upon the very man I was seeking!
Body of Bacchus! but this is lucky! Follow me quickly, for there is no
time to lose."

Like most easy natures the positive assertion of the stranger, and
withal a certain authoritative air of command, overcame what slight
objections the Padre might have feebly nurtured during this remarkable
interview. The spiritual invitation was one, also, that he dared
not refuse; not only that; but it tended somewhat to remove the
superstitious dread with which he had begun to regard the mysterious
stranger. But, following at a respectful distance, the Padre could not
help observing with a thrill of horror that the stranger's footsteps
made no impression on the sand, and his figure seemed at times to blend
and incorporate itself with the fog, until the holy man was obliged to
wait for its reappearance. In one of these intervals of embarrassment he