"What are you reading?" asked Lingard, as he squatted down quietly in the fern by Mackenzie's side.
"Look and see," said the soldier, and Lingard saw, and wondered, for not many a rough old soldier like Mackenzie was seen with such a book. And he wondered still more when Mackenzie, closing the book, asked him to look at it again. There was a clean-cut hole in it, right through one of the covers and penetrating many of the leaves.
"That book saved my life," said the veteran. And he told the story. It was the comrade who had bowled over the Indian who was about to scalp him that gave Mackenzie the little Bible. "'You say you will always be grateful to me for saving your life,' he said. 'Well, I want you to do just one thing for me; it's a little thing. I won't ask much.'
"He was so insistent," said Mackenzie, "that I gave him the promise he asked. 'Well,' said my friend, 'just take this little book of mine and read something in it every night; or, if you won't read it, take it out and look at it and open it. And always carry it with you. It will save your life.'
"I did so, and I read it, more to please my old friend than anything else. I carried it in my jumper pocket, for it was small and light. And in those dangerous days I carried something else night and day—this dagger that I wear at my belt. About midnight one night I was lying alone in my tent, half-asleep, when I heard something—no, smelt it! It was pitch dark, but I knew there was something or some one close to me. As quietly as I knew how, I loosened my dagger and gripped it firmly. The next moment I felt a terrible thud on the chest, and a figure hurled itself on me. I brought round the knife with a swift sweep, and nearly ripped the side out of the fellow—killed him dead. It was a native who wanted to kill and rob me. He had jumped at me with a knife, but the point of his blade struck the Bible in my breast pocket as I lay on my back, and that saved my life. See! It's the sort of thing you used to read about in little Sunday-school books, isn't it? I wonder how many people would believe it? But it's absolutely true. That old comrade of mine saved my life twice. And it's these two I put my trust in, my Bible and my dagger. That knife's the best weapon I've ever had. It's more to me than carbine or revolver."
Then Mackenzie put his hand on his fellow-scout's arm, and spoke in an earnest whisper of a presentiment that filled his mind.
"I feel," he said, looking straight into his friend's eyes, "that this is my last night on earth. I have a conviction that I won't see another sun rise."
"Nonsense!" said young Lingard, beginning to feel creepy. "Don't talk like that, old man; you'll unnerve me. You're not going to die."
"Why should I unnerve you, my boy?" asked Mackenzie very quietly and gently. "There's nothing to be afraid of in dying. I can face death with perfect calmness; and I know I'm to die very soon."
There was silence for some moments. Suddenly Mackenzie started, turned in a listening attitude, and put up a hand in warning.