"Mistake it for a death song likely," he remarked dryly, while the last
clear, lingering note, reechoed by the cliff, died reluctantly away in
softened cadence. "Beautiful old song, sergeant, and I trust hearing
it again has done you good. Sang it once in a church way back in New
England. But what is the trouble? Did you call me for some special
reason?"
"Yes," came the almost gruff response; for Wyman, the fever stealing
back upon him, felt half ashamed of his unshed tears. "That is,
provided you retain sufficient sense to listen. Old Gillis was shot
over an hour ago, yonder behind that big bowlder, and his girl sits
there still holding his head in her lap. She'll get hit also unless
somebody pulls her out of there, and she's doing no good to
Gillis--he's dead."
Hampton's clear-cut, expressive face became graver, all trace of
recklessness gone from it. He lifted his head cautiously, peering over
his rock cover toward where he remembered earlier in the fight Gillis
had sought refuge.
CHAPTER II
OLD GILLIS'S GIRL
Excepting for a vague knowledge that Gillis had had a girl with him,
together with the half-formed determination that if worse came to worst
she must never be permitted to fall alive into the hands of the lustful
Sioux, Mr.
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