aturally clear. She heard every kind
accent, every gentle tone even above the crackle of the fire without and
the beat of the rain. "I think it's the limit," he went on. "I believe
the tree got me--clear inside--but you must listen to everything I say."

She nodded. In that eerie moment of suspense she knew she must hear what
he had to tell her.

"Don't wait to see what happens to me," he went on. "I'll either go out
or I'll live--you really can't help me any. Where's the rifle?"

"The rifle was broken--when the tree fell."

"I knew it would be. I saw it coming." He rested, waiting for further
breath. "Beatrice--please, please don't stay here, trying to save me."

"Do you think I would go?" she cried.

"You must. The food--is about gone. Just enough to last one person
through to the Yuga cabins--with berries, roots. Take the pistol.
There's six shots or so--in the box. Make every one tell. Take the dead
grouse too. The rifle's broken and we can't get meat. It's
just--death--if you wait. You can just make it through now."

"And leave you here to die, as long as there's a chance to save you?"
the girl answered. "You couldn't get up to get water--or build a fire--"

He listened patiently, but shook his head at the end. "No, Bee--please
don't make me talk any more. It's just death for both of us if you stay.
The food is gone--the rifle broken. Your father's gang'll be here sooner
or later--and they'd smash me, anyway. I could hardly fight 'em off with
those few pistol shells--but by God I'd like to try--"

He struggled for breath, and she thought he had slipped back into
unconsciousness. But in a moment the faltering current of his speech
began again.

"Take the pistol--and go," he told her. "You showed me to-day how to
give up--and I don't want to kill--your father--any more. I renounce it
all! Ezram--forgive me--old Ez that lay dead in the leaves." He smiled
at the girl again. "So don't mind leaving me. Life work's all
spent--given over. Please, Beatrice--you'd just kill yourself without
aiding me. Wait till the sun comes up--then follow up the river--"

Unconsciousness welled high above him, and the lids dropped over his
eyes. The gloom still pressed about the cavern, yet a sun no less
effulgent than that of which he had spoken had risen for Ben. It was his
moment of renunciation, glorious past any moment of his life. He had
renounced his last, little fighting chance that the girl might live. And
Ezram, watch