, and with this held point upwards and
my left hand outstretched before me, I crept forward guided by these
sounds. My fingers came upon hair, a woman's long, soft tresses, and I
remember marvelling at the silky feel of them; from these my hand
slipped to her waist and found there an arm that grasped her close,
then, drawing back my hand, I smote with my knife well beneath this arm
and drove in the stout blade twice. The fellow grunted and, loosing
the maid, leapt full at me, but I met him with clenched fist and he
went down headlong, and I, crouched above him and feeling him struggle
to his knees, kicked him back into the mud and thereafter leapt on him
with both feet as I had been wont to do when fighting my fellow-slaves
in some lazarette; then, seeing he stirred no more, I left him,
doubting nothing I had done his business. Yet as I went I felt myself
shiver, for though I had been compelled to fight the naked wretches who
had been my fellow-slaves, I had killed no man as yet.

Thus as I went, chancing to stumble against a tree, I leaned there
awhile; and now remembering those two blows under the armpit, what with
this stabbing and my fall and lack of food, for I had eaten but once
that day, I grew faint and sick. But as I leaned there, out of the
gloom came a hand that fumbled timidly my bowed head, my arm, my hand.

"Sir--are you hurt?" questioned a voice, and here once again I was
struck by the strange, vital quality of this voice, its bell-like depth
and sweetness.

"No whit!" says I. Now as I spoke it chanced she touched the knife in
my grasp and I felt her shiver a little.

"Did you--O sir--did you--kill him?"

"And wherefore no?" I questioned. "And why call me 'sir'?"

"You do speak as one of gentle birth."

"And go like the beggar I am--in rags. I am no 'sir.'"

"How may I call you?"

"Call me rogue, thief, murderer--what ye will, 'tis all one. But as
for you," quoth I, lifting my head, "'tis time you were gone--see
yonder!" and I pointed where a light winked through the trees, a light
that danced to and fro, coming slowly nearer until it stopped all at
once, then rose a shout answered by other shouts and a roar of dismayed
blasphemy. At this my companion pressed nearer so that I felt her
shiver again.

"Let us be gone!" she whispered. "Marjorie, come, child, let us
haste." So we went on together at speed, and ever as we went that
small, soft hand was upon the hand that held the knife.