At this moment they saw the maniac raise himself upon his elbow. Quick as a wink Mark sprang up and made a dive for his revolver. He found it lying on the ground, and whirled about. But he was too late. The man was gone.
“Anyhow, he won’t come back,” was the plebe’s reflection. “And I don’t care if he does. Great heavens! I’m gone! Allen’s seen me.”
Mark’s first impulse was to turn and make a dash for camp, in hope that the dazed lieutenant had not recognized him. But he felt that the officer needed help; so he turned and marched resolutely toward him.
“He—he nearly had me killed,” the latter gasped, as Mark helped him to a sitting posture. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know,” was the other’s truthful answer.
“You have saved my life,” the officer whispered, hoarsely. “It was a terrible experience. I saw you fighting.”
There was a silence after that.
“Help me back to camp,” said Allen, at last. “And take this for a warning. Don’t leave it at night again.”
“I’ll not have another chance,” groaned Mark. “This’ll mean court-martial for me.”
A moment later he almost tumbled backward with amazement and delight.