"The Horn of Diarmaid has sounded," he
cried, and dropped back in my arms.
That was the last word he spoke.
I watched by him till the dark fell, and long after. Then as the moon
rose I bestirred myself, and looked for a place of burial. I would not
have him lie in that narrow ravine, so I carried him into the meadow,
and found a hole which some wild beast had deserted. Painfully and
slowly with my knife I made it into a shallow grave, where I laid him,
with some boulders above. Then I think I flung myself on the earth and
wept my fill. I had lost my best of friends, and the ache of regret and
loneliness was too bitter to bear. I asked for nothing better than to
join him soon on the other side.
After a while I forced myself to rise. He had praised my courage that
very day, and if I was to be true to him I must be true to my trust. I
told myself that Ringan would never have countenanced this idle grief.
I girt on his sword, and hung the gold charm round my neck. Then I took
my bearings as well as I could, re-loaded my pistols, and marched into
the woods, keeping to the course of the little river.
As I went I remember that always a little ahead I seemed to hear the
merry lilt of Ringan's whistling.
CHAPTER XXIV.
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