d-stained blouse. The pockets were empty. Zaidos felt
again. Then it seemed as though he could feel a faint heartbeat. It
was so feeble that when Zaidos laid his hand on the torn breast and
waited, he could feel no stir. He managed to get at his Aid kit,
however, and drop by drop coaxed down a dose of strong restorative. He
pressed a pad of gauze against the wound, and secured it with adhesive
tape. He could see that the wound came through from the back, but he
did not dare turn him over. Presently a faint sigh parted the lips,
and Zaidos administered another dose.

Velo lived!

He opened his eyes presently, and looked dully at Zaidos. Then he
recognized him, and a wild look crossed his face.

"Didn't I kill you?" he asked in a whisper.

"No," said Zaidos. There seemed to be nothing else to say.

"I tried to," said Velo.

"Don't talk!" said Zaidos. He didn't know what to say to the boy who
had nearly taken his life in cold blood. It was murder. The slow
deliberation of the thing chilled him. He had read of things like
that; of innocent people who injured no one being killed in order that
someone might unjustly enjoy something they possessed. He had been
ready to stand by Velo and see that he was all right always. And Velo
must have known it. No matter what he had said, Velo must have known
that! Yet Velo had tried to kill him. He had seen the leveled
revolver, and besides, Velo had just told him, as though he didn't in
the least mind his knowing. As a matter of fact, Velo did care; but he
was so near the shadowy borderland that lies between the living and the
dead, that there was nothing left for him but the truth. And because
of that, he continued, "I'm sorry, Zaidos."

But Zaidos would not reply.

"I'm sorry, Zaidos," Velo said again in his thick, queer whisper.
"Will you forgive me?"

"No," said Zaidos suddenly. "No, I won't! What did I ever do to you
that you should try to take my life? If I said I forgive you it would
be a lie. Besides, you can't be sorry right off like that. As soon as
you get well, you will try it again."

"Oh, I _am_ sorry!" said Velo. "You _must_ forgive me, Zaidos. I am
too badly hurt to get well; you will not be troubled again. I know how
I am wounded. So I am going to talk as much as I can. I wish you
would take the papers. I stole them from you at the barracks. I got
permission to go in while you were asleep. I thought you wouldn't be
there, an