It was Frontin who took charge, his frost-blackened lips cracking out oaths and commands, making the men pile arms and gather around the fire. There was naught else to do, for they were caught in the open and ringed around with foes. Hal Crawford, for once, was incapable of action, as he gently let Phelim Burke sink into the snow, pillowed his head, and sat gazing into that scarred and branded face which was now greying in death.
In this bleak land, with the great silence of the snow barrens pressing down on the white horizon, Phelim Burke’s broken body had come to its last peace. Crawford chafed the cold hands, looked once at the dark wound, and could say nothing. Then, presently, Burke’s eyes fluttered open; a wistful smile came to his pallid lips, and his fingers pressed those of Crawford.
“Hal! Nay, leave the arrow be. It hurts not.”
Crawford choked. This man was more to him than his own father had ever been.
“Take it not so hard, lad; why, lad, what matter?” said Burke. “I go joyful enough, be sure! The leg they broke on the rack will hurt no more. And, Hal, have ye ever known any man to live forever? Not I.”
“Oh, Phelim! If you’d not followed me here——”
“Nonsense!” Phelim Burke smiled again, though sweat dewed his cheeks. “I’ll wait for ye over the last horizon, lad. Tush, now! It’s little enough to die—what else ha’ we lived for? If it was you, lad, ye’d go with a laugh.”
“But it’s you, Phelim—and I love you!”
“Ay, it’s me, save the mark! And if the blessed saints will maybe lend me a hand, Hal, I’ll stay with ye till the Star Woman’s found. Oh, lad, I’d like to see over that horizon! Ay, I’ll stay with ye, for maybe she’s the woman for ye after all. Mind ye keep the Star o’ Dreams safe, since it’s in my mind that your fate lies in the jewel——”
His jaw fell for an instant, and he gasped. Then his eyes opened wider, and he loosed Crawford’s hand and reached out at the air in front of him. His childhood’s tongue came back to him for the last moment.