"Ah, as for myself, I'm in favor of burning him alive when we
capture him. That's me!"
"Et moi aussi," chimed in a third voice. "That poor girl must be
avenged. The man who shot her must die. Holy Virgin, but if
Gaspard Roussillon were only here!"
"But he is here; I saw him just after dark. He was in great
fighting temper, that terrible man. Ouf! but I should not like to
be Colonel Hamilton and fall in the way of that Gaspard
Roussillon!"
"Morbleu! I should say not. You may leave me out of a chance like
that! I shouldn't mind seeing Gaspard handle the Governor, though.
Ah, that would be too good! He'd pay him up for shooting
Mademoiselle Alice."
Beverley could scarcely hold himself erect by the fence; the
smoky, foggy landscape swam round him heavy and strange. He
uttered a groan, which brought Oncle Jazon to his side in a hurry.
"Qu' avez-vous? What's the matter?" the old man demanded with
quick sympathy. "Hev they hit ye? Lieutenant, air ye hurt much?"
Beverley did not hear the old man's words, did not feel his kindly
touch.
"Alice! Alice!" he murmured, "dead, dead!"
"Ya-as," drawled Oncle Jazon, "I hearn about it soon as I got
inter town. It's a sorry thing, a mighty sorry thing. But mebby I
won't do a little somepin' to that--"
Beverley straightened himself and lifted his gun, forgetting that
he had not reloaded it since firing last.
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