guide, or there was no guide to be seen."

"That must be searched into," said the landlord; "is he dead?"

"No, no," replied two or three together.

"He has spoken twice," continued the peasant who had answered before,
"and groaned much. But none of us knew what he said. He is dying, poor
fellow!"

"English?" asked the landlord, looking down on the scarred face and
eager eyes of the stranger, who lay silent on the litter, glancing round
uneasily at the faces about him.

"Some of us would have known French, or German, or Italian," was the
reply, "but not one of us knows English."

"Nor I," said the landlord; "and our English speaker went away last
week, over the St. Gothard to Italy for the winter. Send round, Marie,"
he went on, speaking to his wife, "and find out any one in Engelberg who
knows English. See! The poor fellow is trying to say something now."

"I can speak English," said Roland, pushing his way in amid the crowd
and kneeling down beside the litter, on which a rough bed of fir
pine-branches had been made. The unknown face beneath his eyes was drawn
with pain, and the gaze that met his was one of earnest entreaty.

"I am dying," he murmured; "don't let them torture me. Only let me be
laid on a bed to die in peace."

"I will take care of you," said Roland in his pleasant and soothing
voice, speaking as tenderly as if he had been saying "God bless you!" to
Felix in his little cot; "trust yourself to me. They shall do for you
only what I think best."

The stranger closed his eyes with an expression of relief, and Roland,
taking up one corner of the litter, helped to carry it gently into the
nearest bedroom. He was gifted with something of a woman's softness of
touch, and with a woman's delicate sympathy with pain; and presently,
though not without some moans and cries, the injured man was resting
peacefully on a bed: not unconscious, but looking keenly from face to
face on the people surrounding him.

"Are you English?" he asked, looking at Roland's blistered face and his
worn peasant's dress.

"Yes," he answered.

"Is there any surgeon here?" he inquired.

"No English surgeon," replied Roland. "I do not know if there is one
even at Lucerne, and none could come to you for many hours. But there
must be some one at the monastery close by, if not in the village--"

"No, no!" he interrupted, "I shall not live many hours; but promise
me--I am quite helpless as you see--promise me that you will no