He rubbed his hand across his damp forehead and the
act brought him out of that dim world in which he had been living for the
last ten or fifteen minutes.
"Bird of whatever omen you may be, I'll not shoot you. That's certain,"
he said, "but I'll leave you to your melancholy predictions just as soon
as I can."
He stood up somewhat unsteadily, and renewed the descent of the slope.
Near its foot he came to a brook and bathing his face plentifully in the
cool water he felt wonderfully refreshed. All his strength was flowing
back swiftly.
Then he entered the valley, pressing straight toward the west, and soon
heard the tread of horses. He knew that they must be the cavalry of his
own army, but he withdrew into the bushes until he was assured. A dozen
men riding slowly and warily came into view, and though the moonlight was
wan he recognized them at once. When they were opposite him he stepped
from his ambush and said:
"A happy night to you, Colonel Talbot."
Colonel Leonidas Talbot was a brave man, but seldom in his life had he
been so shaken.
"Good God, Hector!" he cried. "It's Harry Kenton's ghost!"
Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire turned pale.
"I don't believe in ghosts, Leonidas," he said, "but this one certainly
looks like that of Harry Kenton.
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