When I had read the letter again and again, I folded it and laid it in the bosom of my rifle-shirt. Boyd still brooded over his letter, the red firelight bathing his face to the temples.

After a long while he raised his eyes, saw me looking at him, stared at me for a moment, then quietly extended the letter toward me.

“You wish me to read it?” I asked.

“Yes, read it, Loskiel, before I burn it,” he said drearily. “I do not desire to have it discovered on my body after death.”

I took the single sheet of paper and read:

“Lieutenant Thomas Boyd, “Rifle Corps, “Sir:

“For the last time, I venture