"Wait for me," he said. "I'll see how the lad is doing now; and shall return immediately."
Sir Ralph crossed to the cottage that had been built for D'Antons, and which had passed on to Kingswell. He opened the door softly and stepped within. He found the wounded gentleman lying prone on his couch, half-undressed, and with bandaged head. Ouenwa, gaunt and blood-stained, was beside the still figure.
"He opened his eyes," whispered the boy; "but see, he has closed them again. His spirit waits at the spreading of the trails."
Sir Ralph bent down and examined the linen dressings on Kingswell's head. They were exceedingly well arranged. He saw that the hair had been cut away from the place of the wound.
"Your work, Ouenwa?" he inquired.
The boy nodded. The baronet felt his friend's pulse.
"It beats strong," he said. "The heart seems sure enough of the path to take."
Ouenwa's face lighted quickly. "He has chosen," he said, gravely. "He has seen the hunting-grounds shining beyond the west, but the beauty of them has not lured him along that trail."
The baronet smiled quickly into the Beothic's eyes. "You are a brave lad, and we are deep in debt to you," he exclaimed. "Your bravery and wit have saved the fort and all our lives. Watch your friend a few minutes longer; I but go to bring another nurse to help you. Then you may sleep."