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He remained standing by the stem of the proa, his glance roving investigatingly. The day was sunny and pleasant, devoid of chill winds. ‘Damnation! Too late. In passing, why do we fear death? For our sins? Rather, isn't it the tremendous inherent human curiosity to know what is going to happen to-morrow that causes us to wince at the thought of annihilation? A subconscious resentment against the idea of entering darkness while our neighbour will proceed with his petty affairs as usual? "It's nip and tuck," said the doctor; "but we'll pull him through. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. He was chained to the ground, but started up at their approach.
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