tness. I rolled in my agony, and bit the ground till my mouth
was full of leaf mould.

A planet swung from one tree-top to the next. What lay behind it? She
would know soon. But I could not follow her where she was going. I
should live. I knew that. When Death is courted he will not strike.
I had seen that in battle.

That first morning when she had come to me with the sunrise,--when she
had drifted to me, bound and singing,--I had called to her to have no
fear, that no harm should come to her. And she had trusted me.

She had a little hollow in her brown throat where I had watched the
breath flutter. I had never touched it.

I could thank God for her, for one thing. She had refused my kiss.

I saw the planet again, tipping another tree-top. I understood its
remoteness; in my agony I was part of it. What were men, countries,
empires! I felt the insignificance of life, of suffering. What did it
matter if these Indians died! Why should we not all die? I crawled to
my knees. I would give the signal to retreat. I would give it now.
Let the massacre come.

But I fell back. I could not. I could not. Three hundred lives for
one life. I could spill my own blood for her, but not theirs.

But as for empire, I had forgotten its meaning.

All of these men lying in the shadows had women who were dear. Many of
the wives would kill themselves if their husbands died. I had seen an
Indian wife do it; she had smiled while she was dying.

Would the woman think of me--at the last? She would not know that I
had failed her. She would not know that I was worse than Starling.

She was the highest-couraged, the most finely wrought woman that the
world knew. Yet two men had failed her.

"Monsieur," she had said, "life has not been so pleasant that I should
wish to live."

It was only a week ago that she--she, alive, untouched, my own--had
walked away from me in the sunshine, leaning on Cadillac's arm. And I
had let her go. And I had let her go.

And I had let her go. I said that over and over, with my mouth dry,
and I forgot time. I did not know that minutes were passing, but I
looked up, and the stars were dim, and branches and twigs were taking
form. Day would be on us soon.

I raised myself on my elbow and peered. I could see very little, but I
could hear the strange rhythmic rustle that I call the breathing of the
forest. And with it mingled the breathing of three hundred warriors.
They carr