'Cause I was skeert mighty nigh inter seven fits; 'spect that 'splosion blowed her clean away! Ventrebleu! never was so plum outen breath an' dead crazy weak o' bein' afeard!" "Lieutenant Beverley," roared Clark in his most commanding tone, "go to the gate and settle things there.

That mob outside is trying to break in!" The order was instantly obeyed, but Beverley had relapsed.

Once more his soul groped in darkness, while the whole of his life seemed unreal, a wavering, misty, hollow dream.

And yet his military duty was all real enough.

He knew just what to do when he reached the gate.
"Back there at once!" he commanded, not loudly, but with intense force, "back there!" This to the inward surging wedge of excited outsiders.
Then to the guard.
"Shoot the first man who crosses the line!" "Ziff! me voici! moi! Gaspard Roussillon.