On we ran for about 30 yards; then Hellincks stopped, and, pointing to the ground, jerked out: "I told you so"; and I saw a small blotch the size of a man's hand, which, as the bright sunshine played upon it, glittered red like a splendid dark ruby.
"These fellows have as many lives as a cat," he continued hurriedly. "He was down and up again in a second; limped away across the path into that tall grass on the right"—pointing in that direction. "Come! we may yet have him."
On we went a few more yards, when the Belgian came a cropper, having tripped over the foot of the thing spread-eagled in the rice field. In his hurry he had passed too close. I had given it a wide berth. I came back to help him up, and had to look at it. There was a small round hole in the back of the neck, just below the base of the skull.
Hellincks scrambled up, panting. How he cursed!
"What are you staring at, man? Take his gun—quick!"
Bending down, I picked up the Winchester. In doing so I almost touched the body, and with difficulty suppressed a murmured, "I beg your pardon," because I was dominated by a sentiment of awesome respect for the thing that had been, and was no more. I wished to walk softly, on tiptoe, and felt so thankful that he had fallen face-downwards.
All this had passed in the space of a few seconds. "Come back! come back!" It was the corporal shouting to us, and there was a note of warning in his voice.
Before turning to go I glanced up, and saw a puff of white smoke arise, float for a second over the top of the hillock ahead, and I heard a report. Something struck the wet ground a little in front and to my right. A speck of mud hit me on the chin; then, along a distance of 50 yards or so, the crest was covered with smoke, and there was a rattle of musketry.
As we ran the ground and the air seemed to me to be alive, and I could not go quickly enough to please myself.
Hellincks said between pants: "We forgot the cartridges."