This was what he did.
He undressed himself.
He looked all around very stealthily, and saw no signs of any human being.
Then he jumped into the boat, sculled it ashore to the place where he had found it, tied it to the tree, and threw the oar inside.
Then he jumped into the water, and swam back to the schooner.
Then he dressed himself.
And then, in the solitude of that lonely hold, he once more let off steam, and proceeded to indulge in a breakdown, which was more prolonged, more enthusiastic, more sustained, more vehement, more emotional, more expressive, more African, more hilarious, and at the same time more perfectly outrageous and insane than all the other breakdowns put together.
After which he subsided into a comparative calm, and resumed his professional duties.
Thus the hours of the day passed away, and at length evening began to draw near.
It was near sundown when there emerged from the woods the party that had gone into them in the morning. They were all there. None were missing. There were—