mney were but on the other side of that swell of
land. The Indian bullet was deadlier than I thought."

"You are weary with our three days' travel," replied the youth, "and a
little longer rest will recruit you. Sit you here while I search the
woods for the herbs and roots that must be our sustenance; and, having
eaten, you shall lean on me, and we will turn our faces homeward. I
doubt not that, with my help, you can attain to some one of the
frontier garrisons."

"There is not two days' life in me, Reuben," said the other, calmly,
"and I will no longer burden you with my useless body, when you can
scarcely support your own. Your wounds are deep and your strength is
failing fast; yet, if you hasten onward alone, you may be preserved.
For me there is no hope, and I will await death here."

"If it must be so, I will remain and watch by you," said Reuben,
resolutely.

"No, my son, no," rejoined his companion. "Let the wish of a dying man
have weight with you; give me one grasp of your hand, and get you
hence. Think you that my last moments will be eased by the thought that
I leave you to die a more lingering death? I have loved you like a
father, Reuben; and at a time like this I should have something of a
father's authority. I charge you to be gone that I may die in peace."

"And because you have been a father to me, should I therefore leave you
to perish and to lie unburied in the wilderness?" exclaimed the youth.
"No; if your end be in truth approaching, I will watch by you and
receive your parting words. I will dig a grave here by the rock, in
which, if my weakness overcome me, we will rest together; or, if Heaven
gives me strength, I will seek my way home."

"In the cities and wherever men dwell," replied the other, "they bury
their dead in the earth; they hide them from the sight of the living;
but here, where no step may pass perhaps for a hundred years, wherefore
should I not rest beneath the open sky, covered only by the oak leaves
when the autumn winds shall strew them? And for a monument, here is
this gray rock, on which my dying hand shall carve the name of Roger
Malvin, and the traveller in days to come will know that here sleeps a
hunter and a warrior. Tarry not, then, for a folly like this, but
hasten away, if not for your own sake, for hers who will else be
desolate."

Malvin spoke the last few words in a faltering voice, and their effect
upon his companion was strongly visible. They reminded him th