"Yes, somewhere else," he repeated. "It was all wrong; and just when I was at my worst, that wretch, who had been watching me and reading it all, came to me, and, as if he were some evil spirit, kept on day after day, laughing and jeering at me, till he regularly worked round me like the snake he is, and flattered, and planned, and talked of the future, till in my weak, vain folly I drank it all in. For I was weak, and he was strong; and at last, though I didn't know it then, I was his slave, Dale, and ready to do every bit of villainy he wished. But there, I need not tell you any more. I only want you, knowing all you do, to go to my poor old father and mother and tell them everything--how it all happened. It will be better than for them only to know it from the papers. They will understand then how it was I went wrong so quickly, right to the bitter end." "No," I cried; "you shall go and confess it all yourself." He laughed gently. "Oh no. I'm glad Jarette aimed so straight, Dale. It was the kindest thing he could do. It's all over now. Can't you see it's best?" "No," I said more firmly. "It would be best for you to get well, and prove in the future as a man, that you have repented your weakness as a boy." "Yes, perhaps," he said, after a long pause; "but it is not to be so. I'm not going to be tried here, Dale, where no one can tell everything, and understand how weak I was, and how, from the first day, I bitterly repented giving that man such power over me. I'm going to be judged there, Dale, where everything is known." He closed his eyes as he spoke, and I was going to steal away, but his grasp tightened on my hand. "Don't leave me, Dale," he whispered. "You'll promise all this, won't you?" "If it is necessary," I said; "but you--" He opened his eyes, and looked at me, smiling gently, and I ceased speaking, for I knew that my words were not true as I sat beside him all through that hot day waiting. Mr Frewen came in from time to time, but he said little, and Walters appeared to be dozing for the most part. "Better stay," Mr Frewen whispered; and then in answer to my questioning look, he shook his head, and I knew that it was all over. It was close upon sundown, and the interior of the cabin was filled with an orange glow when Mr Frewen came in again. Walters seemed to be fast asleep, quite free from pain, and breathing easily. "You must be terribly faint, my lad. You have had nothing," the doctor whispered. "Yes, I have," I replied. "Bob Hampton brought me a biscuit and some soup, and Miss Denning brought me some tea just now." "Heaven bless her!" he muttered. Then in a quick whisper--"We shall have to call you up presently, my lad." "Why?" "The enemy are closing in. They'll make a desperate fight of it this time, and every help we can muster is necessary. Eh! Want me?" he said, as there was a tap on the door.