How great had been his share in the tragedy he hardly as yet realized; that would come later.
“It wasn’t her fault this afternoon,” he said roughly; “it was mine, and this evening she never knew I followed her.”
“Oh, my God—my little girl, my poor little girl.”
He lifted her up in his arms and made a half effort to staunch the wound, but she was evidently dying fast—past all human aid.
“Jim—you—won’t—go—anigh—the—camp?”
“Nellie, Nellie, don’t die, my darling—don’t leave me; don’t let me have this on my conscience. I love you, Nellie—you are all there is to live for. I love you.”
“Better ‘n her?” she gasped.
He looked down at her in wonder, then covered the white face with kisses.
“Better a thousand times—better than any woman that ever lived. Forgive me, Nell, forgive me.”
She was going fast, but she understood him, and the man looking on saw peace and happiness on her face.