Then I became calm and indifferent. I marvel even now to think how undreading of death I was, feeling that I was so soon to die; undreading, for in all the queerness of my head and the dizziness and throbbing and the bitterness of the knowledge of the unequal fight, I thought always of you and of Andrew Jackson, who when shot by Dickinson, clinched his teeth on a bullet to keep from biting his tongue, clinched, stood, and killed his man! ... Down in that death hole with savages above me waiting for a chance to brain me or bolo me to death, I heard—I’ll swear I heard Aunt Lucretia say, "_Would Andrew Jackson faint or fight here, Jack?_" Yes, Eloise, believe me or not, but then I knew I would not faint again. I crawled further under the rock, lying flat, face up, and drew both my Colts.... My belt still held the shells. The fight I had with myself must have been long, for they found forty-three empty shells at my side next day.... I don’t remember distinctly what happened, for my head would spin every now and then and I had to close my eyes. Then I fired twice, thrice... A fool was starting down to see where I was, a fool, and he met a fool’s fate at my feet... So for hours I shot that way and none dared to try to come down again, none but one who suddenly dropped upon me from the left like a tiger from a cliff, the last of the red painted things who sought death in order to gain Paradise. He died literally on me; and he died quickly. He did not know that having killed his companions with my right, I was on my back with a Colt also in my left. So died the last of the _Juramentados_.... I knew this would end it, and I was glad, for I was beginning to forget, with the fever flame licking amid the fagots of my brain. I had strange deliriums.... Æons passed with me wallowing in the water beneath me, thrusting my burning head into it and not knowing it.... And then came the end of the delirium in the great joy of the volley of shots above me and the cheers of the First Tennessee. I heard our General telling me I was all right, and then the dreams returned, for I saw you on Satan, in _khaki_, riding with the firing line; and then my head was in your lap, and you were crying over me and kissing me, before all the boys. And like one in a nightmare, when strange things happen, I told them it was not real, that I was touched of a _borang_ in my head, and was a double weakling for dreaming and then being such a fool as to weep over a dream. But they only cheered me and laughed. * * * * *