“At sunset he came downstairs....  He was helping his wife on the verandah, and gaily talking, when suddenly he put both hands to his head, and cried out, ‘What’s that?’ Then he asked quickly, ’Do I look strange?’ Even as he did so he fell on his knees beside her.  He was helped into the great hall, between his wife and body-servant, Sosimo, losing consciousness instantly, as he lay back in the arm-chair that had once been his grandfather’s.  Little time was lost in bringing the doctors, Anderson of the man-of-war, and his friend Dr. Funk.  They looked at him and shook their heads ... he had passed the bounds of human skill....

“The dozen and more Samoans that formed part of the clan of which he was chief, sat in a wide semicircle on the floor, their reverent, troubled, sorrow-stricken faces all fixed upon their dying master.  Some knelt on one knee to be instantly ready for any command that might be laid upon them....

“He died at ten minutes past eight on Monday evening the 3rd of December, in the forty-fifth year of his age.

“The great Union Jack that flew over the house was hauled down and laid over the body, fit shroud for a loyal Scotsman.  He lay in the hall which was ever his pride, where he had passed the gayest and most delightful hours of his life....  In it were the treasures of his far off Scottish home....  The Samoans passed in procession beside his bed, kneeling and kissing his hand, each in turn, before taking their places for the long night watch beside him.  No entreaty could induce them to retire, to rest themselves for the painful arduous duties of the morrow.  It would show little love for Tusitala, they said, if they did not spend their last night beside him.  Mournful and silent, they sat in deep dejection, poor, simple, loyal folks, fulfilling the duty that they owed their chief.

“A messenger was dispatched to a few chiefs connected with the family, to announce the tidings and bid them assemble their men on the morrow for the work there was to do....

“The morning of the 4th of December broke cool and sunny....  A meeting of chiefs was held to apportion the work and divide the men into parties.  Forty were sent with knives and axes to cut a path up the steep face of the mountain, and the writer himself led another party to the summit—­men chosen from the immediate family—­to dig the grave on the spot where it was Robert Louis Stevenson’s wish that he should lie....  Nothing more picturesque can be imagined than the ledge that forms the summit to Vaea, a place no wider than a room, and flat as a table.  On either side the land descends precipitously; in front lies the vast ocean and surf-swept reefs; to the right and left green mountains rise....

“All the morning Samoans were arriving with flowers, few of these were white, for they have not learned our foreign custom, and the room glowed with the many colors.  There were no strangers on that day, no acquaintances; those only were called who would deeply feel the loss.  At one o’clock a body of powerful Samoans bore away the coffin, hid beneath a tattered red ensign that had flown above his vessel in many a remote corner of the South Seas.  A path so steep and rugged taxed their strength to the utmost, for not only was the journey difficult in itself, but extreme care was requisite to carry the coffin shoulder high....