"What does it mean?" I asked quietly.
"Death, very likely," he answered. "Danger always. No more sport, no more
living in the easy places. But in the end glory--and afterwards peace. A
man can die but once, Courage!"
"I am not afraid," I answered slowly. "But am I the man, do you think,
for a task like this?"
"None better," he answered. "Listen, where do you sleep?"
"In the next room to yours," I answered.
"Good! Will you leave your door open, so that if I call in the night you
may hear?"
"Certainly! You can have a servant sleep on the couch in your room, if
you like."
He shook his head.
"I would rather not," he answered. "Just now I cannot talk any more. If
my time comes in the night, I shall wake you. If not--to-morrow!"
CHAPTER XII
OLD FRIENDS
A flavor of unreality hung about the events of the last few days. I felt
myself slowly waking as though from a nightmare. The dazzling sunshine
was everywhere around us; the whir of reaping machines, the slighter
humming of bees, and the song of birds, were in our ears; the perfume
of all manner of flowers, and of the new-mown hay, made the air
wonderfully sweet.
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