"Yes, Paul, it is I," Henry replied quietly.
Paul lay still and struggled with memory. The rain was now ceasing, and
a few shafts of moonlight, piercing through the clouds, threw silver
rays on the dripping forest.
"The battle!" said Paul at last. "I was firing and something struck me.
That was the last I remember."
He paused and his face suddenly brightened. He cast a look of gratitude
at his comrade.
"You came for me?" he said.
"Yes," replied Henry, "I came for you, and I brought you here."
Paul closed his eyes, lay still, and then at a ghastly thought, opened
his eyes again.
"Are only we two left?" he asked. "Are all the others killed? Is that
why we are hiding here in the forest?"
"No," replied Henry, "we are holding them off, but we decided that it
was wiser to retreat. We shall join our own people in the morning."
Paul said no more, and Henry sheltered him as best he could under the
trees. The wet clothing he could not replace, and that would have to be
endured. But he rubbed his body to keep him warm and to induce
circulation. The night was now far advanced, and the distant firing
became spasmodic and faint.
Pages:
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329