afterwards,
sobbing as though her heart would break.

"Poor Harry, poor light-hearted Harry," Mother Bantem said. "And did
you see the happy smile upon his face as he passed away, clasping those
two poor children's hands--so peaceful, so quiet, after all his
suffering; forgetting all then, but what seemed like two angels' faces
by his dying pillow, for he said, Ike, he said--"

Poor Mother Bantem broke down here, and I thought about what Harry's
dying pillow had been--her faithful, old, motherly breast. But she
forced back her sobs, and wiped the tears from her rough, plain face, as
she said in low, reverent tones: "Poor Harry! His last words: `Of such
is the kingdom of Heaven.'"

Death was very busy amongst our poor company, and one--two--three more
passed away there, for they were riddled with wounds; and then I saw
that, in spite of all that could be done, Lieutenant Leigh would be the
next. He had received his death-wound, and he knew it too; and now he
lay very still, holding tightly by Miss Ross's hand, while she knelt
beside him.

Captain Dyer, with his eight men, all left, were still keeping the door;
but of late they had not been interfered with, and the poor fellows were
able to do one another a good turn in binding up wounds. But what all
were now suffering for want of, was water; and beyond a few drops in one
or two of the bottles carried by the women, there was none to be had.

As for me, I could only lie there helpless, and in a half-dreamy way,
see and listen to all that was going on. The spirit in me was good to
help; but think of my state--going for days with that cut on the face,
and a broken arm, and in that climate.

I was puzzling myself about this time as to what was going to happen
next, for I could not understand why the rebels were so quiet; but the
next minute I was watching Lieutenant Leigh, and thinking about the
morning when we saw Captain Dyer bound to the muzzle of the
nine-pounder.

Could he have been thinking about the same thing? I say yes, for all at
once he started right up, looking wild and excited. He had hold of Miss
Ross's hand; but he threw it from him, as he called out: "Now, my lads,
a bold race, and a short one. We must bring them in. Spike the guns--
cut the cords. Now, then--Elsie or death. Are you ready there?
Forward!"

That last word rang through the vault we were in, and Captain Dyer ran
down the steps, his hacked sword hanging from his wrist by the