as gently laid upon his forehead, where
his head was most charged with pain, and he made a feeble effort to turn
where he lay upon his back.

"Who's that?" he said.

"Oh, Mark! Mark!" came in a familiar voice; and that voice seemed to
give back the power to think.

"You, Dean! What does it all mean?"

"Oh, don't you know?"

Mark was silent, for like a flash came the recollection of what had
passed--his going to seek his cousin, his sitting asleep, and the big
Illaka standing close by in possession of the watcher's rifle, doing the
duty that had been neglected.

"I was beginning to be afraid that I should never hear you speak again,
and you mustn't speak much, I'm sure, while you are so dreadfully weak.
But I must talk to you a little. You do feel a little better now?"

"Better? No."

"Oh, Mark, old fellow, don't say that!"

"I'm wounded, am I not?"

"Oh, yes, dreadfully; and I have been in despair. I couldn't have borne
it, but Buck kept giving me hope. There were days, though, and nights,
when you hardly seemed to breathe."

"Days and nights!" whispered Mark. "What do you mean? Wasn't it
yesterday? Or was it to-day, just before dawn?"

"Oh, Mark! Mark! It was weeks ago!"

Mark was silent for a few minutes, as he lay thinking.

"Weeks!" he said, at last, and he lay perfectly silent. "Where are we
now?"

"Right away in the wilds somewhere, where our friends brought us after
they carried us off that night. I have hardly thought of that--only of
you."

"Our friends!" said Mark, at last. "Who are our friends?"

"Buck and Dan and the two blacks."

"Buck and Dan!" almost whispered Mark. "I heard them talking, and
thought it was a little while ago."

Strangely wild thoughts were running now through Dean's brain. His
cousin had been so long in that dreadful stupor, insensible even to the
touch of those who had dressed his wounds and cooled his burning brain
by applications to the spot where a blow from a club had struck him
down. Was this the poor fellow's senses returning for a short time,
before--?

"I can't bear it," whispered Dean to himself. "Speak to me again just
this once, Mark," he said aloud, "and then I want you to sleep. Both
Buck and Dan say that sleep is the best thing for you now. I want you
to tell me that you will get better."

Mark made no answer. He was thinking. It was coming back more and
more.

"Oh, I know you are badly hurt," said Dean, at last. "I kno