t he was probably dead.

But at last a young officer entered the seething tent, and touched him
on the shoulder.

"Can you come outside a moment? You're wanted," he said.

Durant turned from a man who was lying exhausted and barely conscious,
took up his case, and followed him out. He did just glance at the bed in
the corner as he went, but he saw no movement there.

His summoner turned upon him abruptly as they emerged.

"Look here," he said. "There's a water-bag quite full, waiting for those
poor beggars in there. Better send one of the orderlies for it."

"Water!" said Durant sharply, as if the news were difficult to believe.
Then, recovering himself: "Tell the sentry, will you? I can't spare an
orderly."

The young officer complied, and hurried him on.

"The poor chap is breathing his last," he said. "You can't do him any
good, but he wants you."

"Who is it?" asked the doctor.

"The man who fetched the water--Ford. He was badly wounded when he
started. He crawled every inch of the way on his stomach, and back
again, dragging the bag with him. Heaven knows how he did it! It's taken
him hours."

"Ford?" the doctor said incredulously. "Ford? Impossible! How did he get
away?"

"Oh, he crawled through somehow; Heaven only knows how! But he's done
now, poor beggar--pegging out fast. We got him into shelter, but we
couldn't do more, he was in such agony."

The speaker stopped, for Durant had broken into a run. The moonlight
showed him a group of men gathered about a prone figure. They separated
and stood aside as he reached them; and he, kneeling, found in the prone
figure the man who had talked with him in the afternoon of the friend
who had played him false.

He was very far gone, lying in a dreadful twisted heap, his head, with
its bloodstained bandages, resting on his arm. Yet Durant saw that he
still lived, and tried with gentle hands to ease the strain of his
position.

With a sharp gasp, Ford opened his eyes.

"Hullo!" he said. "It's you, is it? Did they get the water?"

"They have got it by now," the doctor answered.

"Ah!" The man's lips twisted in a difficult smile. He struggled bravely
to keep the mortal agony out of his face. "Gave you the slip that time,"
he gasped. "Disobeyed orders, too. But it didn't matter--except for
example. You must tell them, eh? Dying men have privileges."

"Tell him he'd have had the V. C. for it," whispered the officer in
command, over the doctor's shoulder