Suddenly Reynolds fell headlong to the ground. He was on his feet immediately and rushing forward again.
"It's the damned wires," said Flanagan. "They're scattered all over the place."
As he spoke, Reynolds went down for the second time, but did not rise again. Benners came to a halt and stooped over him.
"Are you hit, chummy?" he asked.
"I got it through the breast," the boy replied. "It was that which brought me down the last time, not the wires."
Reynolds was surrounded now by his comrades. He was sitting half upright, his head sinking towards his knees, the martial elation of a few minutes ago utterly gone.
"Well, chummy, you'll be all right in time for breakfast," said Bubb, who expected that these words would buoy up the youngster's courage. But Reynolds seemed to pay no heed, a cold and sorrowful expression settled on his white face, which looked strange and unearthly in the light of the moon. The sergeant cut open the youth's tunic and looked at the wound, which showed red over the heart. There was very little bleeding.
"Oh! you'll be all right in no time," said the sergeant in a voice which was strangely soft and kind.
"No, no," said the boy, in a scarcely audible whisper. "Leave me to myself, please.... I'll not live very long.... It's too near the heart."
These were the last words which the men heard him speak. Ten minutes later he had passed away.