Colonel Carmichael, who knew death too well, rose heavily to his feet.
"It's all over," he said. "We can do nothing more for him, and we must
leave him. Come, Lois."
His stern command roused her from her stupor of half-incredulous
sorrow. Gently she laid the lifeless head upon the cushions which
Beatrice had brought, and crossed the hands over the quiet breast.
This time she fought in vain against the blinding tears. They fell on
the face of the dead man, and, moved by an irresistible impulse, she
bent once more and kissed him.
"God bless you, John!" Then she rose and faced her husband. "I can not
help it," she said. "He is dead."
Travers said nothing. He was clinging to the verandah, and his face
was grey. Outside the noise and confusion had increased. They could
hear yells and imprecations, and a stone whizzed through the trees,
falling a few feet short of where the little party stood. Colonel
Carmichael shook Travers by the arm.
"Don't stand there like that!" he said, his voice rough with contempt.
"It can't be helped, and I dare say we shan't any of us be much better
off by to-morrow. I have a patrol outside waiting to take the ladies
over to my bungalow. Mrs. Cary and Mrs. Berry are already there. There
isn't a moment to be lost. Rouse yourself and look to Lois. I will
escort Miss Cary." He turned to Beatrice with a stiff bow. "The enemy
must at least find us united."
"The enemy!" exclaimed Beatrice sharply.
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