“You murderer! You have killed the poor major! You have slain the idol of my heart!”
“Great Cæsar!” gasped Zenas. “So she acknowledged that human wart as the idol of her heart! Well, she may take her idol, eggs and all!”
Sarah Ann fell on her knees beside the major, clasping him in her arms.
“Poor, poor hero!” she sobbed. “Tell me where you are wounded.”
“Fo’ the love of goodness, go ’way!” gurgled Fitts thickly.
“What is this horrid odor?” she exclaimed chokingly. “It is frightful!”
“Turkish cemeteries always smell that way, madam,” huskily declared the major. “Please go ’way! Please let me die in peace!”
“Never! I will remain by you until the last! I will—— But I can’t endure this terrible odor! I’m growing faint! And what is this sticky substance all over your clothes?”
“That’s blood—pure blood.”
She held up her hands. The light was now sufficient for her to see.