"You shall have all that we can leave you," said the Colonel eagerly and with some emotion. "Ammunition in plenty, food, blankets, an axe—it's little enough I can do, God knows, but I do that little most willingly."
"Again I thank you," said Landless wearily.
Sir Charles caught the inflection. "You stand in need of rest," he said courteously, "and, this matter settled, our farther intrusion upon you is as unnecessary as it must be unwelcome. Had we not best descend, gentlemen?"
"Ay," said the Colonel. "We have done all we could." Then, to Landless, "With the moonrise we drop down the river—from out your sight forever. I have told you frankly there is no hope for you amongst your kind in the world to which we return. I believe there to be none. But have you thought of what we must needs leave you to? Humanly speaking, it is death, and death alone, in the winter forest."
"I have thought," said Landless.
"From my soul I wish that some miracle may occur to save you yet!"
"An ill wish!" said the other, smiling, "with but little chance, however, of its fulfillment."
"I fear not," said the Colonel with something like a groan, "but I wish it, nevertheless. Here is my hand, and with it my heartfelt thanks for your service to my daughter. And I wish you to believe that I deeply deplore your fate, and that I would have saved you if I could."
"I believe it," Landless said simply.
The Colonel took and wrung his hand, then turned sharply away, and beckoning the overseer to follow, strode out of the circle of rocks.