If that didn't stop the chap, hang it! he deserved victory.
But it did.
Gently, very gently, the arms relaxed. He could feel the man fading away and away in his embrace. All that power and stress of life was pouring out into infinity. The man was dying at his ear. Lying his length upon the boy, he shuddered from head to heel.
"Marie," he sighed.
There was a last ripple of life, and the boy knew he was holding earth.
He wriggled out into the light with throbbing temples.
His hand and shirt-cuff caught his eye. He started back. They followed him. He tried to fling his hand away. It would not be flung. He stared, breathing like a frightened horse.
His jaw dropping, he looked at his handiwork.
The fellow was lying on his face, long legs wide. But for the hilt of the dirk sticking out of his loins, he looked much as other men. Yet— he was not. Think! A minute ago—and now! How wonderful it all was, and how terrible! The mystery of it made chaos in his brain.
He was frightened at himself, even more than at the dead man, or his deed.