"Hush!" exclaimed one of the foresters, half-an-hour later, turning back toward the young couple who were some distance behind. "Don't let her come near. We've found him; he's dead as a hammer."
Alice sat down upon a fallen tree-trunk, faint and trembling.
"Stay here, dearest, a few moments. I will come back to you," and Philip went forward with the men to where, amid the ruins of the forest,—Ben lay, a crushed and senseless human thing. He was dreadfully mutilated, and to every appearance dead. They dragged him out from under the heavy branches, and as they did so, a low groan startled them. One of the men sank down and took the head upon his knee.
"Where's Alice?"
Ben unclosed his eyes, as he asked the question, moving them about from one face to another with a searching glance.
"I'm dying—bring her quick. Oh, do bring her, won't you?"
The gasping voice was loud and thrilling in the eagerness of its entreaty. Philip turned away and went for his wife.
"Do you think you can bear the sight?"
"If he wishes to see me, I shall not deny a dying man. He took many a step for me, in his better days—poor boy."
Ben seemed to distinguish her footsteps as she drew near. He could not stir, but his eyes turned in that direction.