"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.
Sir Charles raised his feathered hat. "We have been foes," he said, "but the strife is over—and when all is said, we are both Englishmen. I trust we bear each other no ill will."
"I bear none," said Landless.
Sir Charles, his eyes still fixed upon the pale quiet of the other's face, passed out of the opening between the rocks, and his place was taken by the Surveyor-General.
"I would have saved you if I could," he said in a low and troubled voice. "I bow to a brave man and a gallant gentleman," and he too was gone.
In the glade below, the movement, the laughter and the song sank gradually into silence as the gentlemen adventurers, the rangers, Indian guides, and servants composing the rescuing party threw themselves down, one by one, beside the blazing fires for a short rest before moonrise and the long pull down the river.