“In the morning I was in the woods near them. I saw Rafe. But that Rogers kept him always near him.
“I saw Rogers go out of the wood a little to look. Rafe was a little way from him and coming slowly toward me. I called to him. He did not hear. I saw the look in his face. It was the look of one who has made up his mind to kill. Again I called to him. But he did not hear.
“I saw Rogers go running along the edge of the wood. Now he came running back toward Rafe. He stopped and turned.
“The young Whiting was on his knee with the rifle raised to shoot. I looked to Rafe. The sound of his gun struck me as I turned my face. The bullet struck Rogers in the back of the head. I saw. The young Whiting had not fired at all.
“I turned and ran, calling to Rafe to follow me. ‘Come with me, mon Rafe,’ I called. ‘I, too, am guilty. I would have killed him in the night. Come with me. We will escape. The fire will 263 cover all. None will ever know but you and me, and I am guilty as you. Come.’
“But he did not hear. And I wished him to hear. Oh! I wished him at least to hear me say that I took the share of the guilt, for I did not wish to be separated from him in this world or the next.
“But he ran back always into the path of the fire, for those other men, the old M’sieur Beasley and the others, were closing behind him and the fire.”
She was speaking freely of the fire now, but it did not matter. Her story was told. The big, hot tears were flowing freely and her voice rose into a cry of farewell as she told the end.
“Then he was down and I saw the fire roll over him. Oh, the great God, who is good, was cruel that day! Again, at the last, I saw him up and running on again. Then the fire shut him out from my sight, and God took him away.
“That is all. I ran for the Little Tupper and was safe.”