Now by the brotherhood ye've sworn
Let the Oneida mourn."
And I heard from the forest the deadened blows of mattock and spade, and saw the glimmer of burial torches; and, through the steady chanting of the Oneida, the solemn voice of the chaplain in prayer for dead and living:
"Let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us. And establish Thou the work of our hands upon us—yea, the work of our hands, establish Thou it!"
It lacked an hour to dawn when the harsh, stringy drums rolled from the forest and the smoky camp awoke; and I, keeping my vigil, there in the shadow where she lay, listening and bending above her, was aware of a bandaged hand touching me—a feverish arm about my neck, drawing my head lower, closer, till, in the darkness, my face lay on hers, and our tremulous lips united.
"Is all well, my beloved?"
"All is well."
"And we part no more?"
"No more."