Ah, that would be too good! He'd pay him up for shooting Mademoiselle Alice." Beverley could scarcely hold himself erect by the fence; the smoky, foggy landscape swam round him heavy and strange.

He uttered a groan, which brought Oncle Jazon to his side in a hurry.
"Qu' avez-vous?
What's the matter ?" the old man demanded with quick sympathy.

"Hev they hit ye?
Lieutenant, air ye hurt much ?" Beverley did not hear the old man's words, did not feel his kindly touch.
"Alice! Alice!" he murmured, "dead, dead!" "Ya-as," drawled Oncle Jazon, "I hearn about it soon as I got inter town.

It's a sorry thing, a mighty sorry thing.

But mebby I won't do a little somepin' to that--" Beverley straightened himself and lifted his gun, forgetting that he had not reloaded it since firing last.