"I am bewildered, and it seems brutal to ask you questions now," he said huskily. "But you have more to tell."
Maxwell's eyes signified assent, but he paused to gather breath.
"It is only because I am dying. Otherwise, you would never have heard this from me, but it seems best for both that you should know. It was naturally not for—my—sake Miss Chatterton made that midnight journey."
Maxwell smiled wistfully as he let his head sink back again; and Dane, drawing his arm away, said nothing for a few minutes. It was wonderful news he had heard, but the price which had been paid for his safety was unbearably heavy.
"You are a very staunch friend—and this makes it the harder for me to lose you. If only there was anything a man could do to prevent it! Carsluith, rouse yourself! I can't lose you!"
"It makes it the easier for me to go," said Maxwell. "If what I hope for happens, you will always be kind to her, Hilton. Just moisten my lips with the brandy."
There was silence afterward, for Maxwell lay breathing unevenly with his eyes closed, and Dane was swayed in turn by satisfaction and a crushing sense of loss. He suffered from remorse as well. Maxwell dying had revealed a side of his nature his comrade now knew he should have seen manifested in his actions if not in his words.
It was the sufferer who first spoke again.
"It was Rideau who brought misfortune upon us from the beginning, and to judge by the rifle the bushman left, he was the instigator of the last attack."
"May worse befall me if I do not repay him fully before I leave Africa!" Dane said, solemnly.