"Poor fellow, he is too old for such adventures.

He seems to have hardly a spark of life left in him." Hilda shuddered with evident horror.

"He is not my father--thank Heaven!" she cried, leaning over him and supporting his drooping head, in spite of her own fatigue and the cold that chilled our very bones.
"But I think he will live.

I mean him to live.

He is my best friend now--and my bitterest enemy!" The officer looked at her in surprise, and then touched his forehead, inquiringly, with a quick glance at me.