They were but
phantoms themselves, and the foes who leaped about in the forest were
phantoms, too. Darker and darker the clouds rolled up and the smoke and
vapors thickened in the forest, but through the blackness the lines of
flame still replied to each other.
Paul's excitement was so great that he could not keep himself down. He was
burning with fever, but passion seemed to be departing from him. He
thought that, if they were all to die, it was a privilege to die together.
He saw now the deep cool woods, a beautiful lake, and an island enclosed
within it, like a green gem in a blue setting. Paul's thoughts, and his
vision with them, were wandering into the past.
"Steady, Paul, steady!" said Henry. But Paul saw nothing now. A bullet,
singing merrily, gave him a leaden kiss, and he sank down very gently,
lying upon one arm, the red fast dyeing his buckskin hunting shirt.
Henry gave a cry when he saw Paul fall, and bent anxiously over his
friend. The light was faint, but the bullet seemed to have gone entirely
through the youth. Henry put his ear to his chest, and could hear his
heart still beating, though faintly.
"Hold 'em back!" he shouted to his friends, "and I'll help Paul!"
Shif'less Sol, Tom, and Long Jim, although overwhelmed with anxiety for
their young comrade, steadily turned their faces toward the foe, and
replied to his fire.
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