"Great guns!" he exclaimed, eagerly, "but I know you. You're old man

Gillis's gal from Bethune, ain't ye?"

The quickly uplifted dark eyes seemed to lighten the ghastly pallor of

her face, and her lips trembled. "Yes," she acknowledged simply, "but

he's dead."

The lieutenant laid his ungloved hand softly on her shoulder, his blue

eyes moist with aroused feeling.

"Never mind, little girl," he said, with boyish sympathy. "I knew

Gillis, and, now the sergeant has spoken, I remember you quite well.

Thought all the time your face was familiar, but could n't quite decide

where I had seen you before. So poor old Gillis has gone, and you are

left all alone in the world! Well, he was an old soldier, could not

have hoped to live much longer anyway, and would rather go fighting at

the end. We 'll take you back with us to Bethune, and the ladies of

the garrison will look after you."

The recumbent figure lying a few yards away half lifted itself upon one

elbow, and Hampton's face, white and haggard, stared uncertainly across

the open space. For an instant his gaze dwelt upon the crossed sabres

shielding the gilded "7" on the front of the lieutenant's scouting hat,

then settled upon the face of the girl. With one hand pressed against

the grass he pushed himself slowly up until he sat fronting them, his

teeth clinched tight, his gray eyes gleaming feverishly in their sunken

sockets.

"I'll be damned if you will!" he said, hoarsely. "She 's my girl now."




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