صفحة 388 من 439

The rope was still round his neck and the coat was stripped from

his back. He was white to the lips, and she could see he could

scarce stand, even with the support of the pine trunk. His face

was bruised and battered. His hat was gone; and hidden somewhere

in his crisp short hair was a cut from which blood dripped to the

forehead. The bound arm had been torn from its bandages in the

unequal battle he had fought. But for all his desperate plight he

still carried the invincible look that nothing less than death

can rob some men of.

The fretted moonlight, shifting with the gentle motion of the

foliage above, fell full upon him now and showed a wet, red stain

against the white shirt. Simultaneously outraged nature

collapsed, and he began to sink to the ground.

Arlie gave a little cry and ran forward. Before he reached the

ground he had fainted; yet scarcely before she was on her knees

beside him with his head in her arms.