"Don't you understand," he went on earnestly, "that we are in this together to the end--the very end? I know I'm not of much use, but I am not such a coward as you seem to think me, and----" She stopped him with a quick pressure of the fingers. "Don't!" she breathed. "You are cruel!" "Not half so cruel as you were a moment ago," he retorted. "Forgive me, my friend," she pleaded, and moved a little nearer. "I did not know--I am but a girl--I thought perhaps you would wish to be rid of me." "I don't want ever to be rid of you," began Stewart, brokenly, drawing her closer. "I don't want ever----" She yielded for an instant to his arm; for the fraction of an instant her head was upon his breast; then she drew herself away, and silenced him with a tap upon the lips. "Not now!" she said, and her voice, too, was hoarse. "All we must think of now is to escape. Afterwards, perhaps----" "I shall hold you to that!" said Stewart, and released her. But again for an instant she bent close. "You are a good man!" she whispered. "Oh, no!" Stewart protested, though he was shaken by the words. "No better than the average!" And then he suddenly found himself unable to go on, and there was a moment's silence. When he spoke again, he had regained his self-control. "Have you a plan?" he asked. "Yes," she said, and drew a quick breath, as of one shaking away some weakness. "The first part is that you should sit quite still until I tell you to light the candle." "But what----" "A good soldier does not ask questions." "All right, general," said Stewart, and settled back against the wall, completely, ineffably happy. Never before, he told himself, had he known what happiness was; never before had the mere joy of living surged through his veins as it was doing now. Little comrade! But what was she doing? He could hear her moving softly about the room; he could hear the rustle of what he took to be the bed-clothes; then the bed creaked as she sat down upon it. What was she doing? Why should she work in the dark, alone, without asking him to help? Was it because he could not help--was of so little use---- "You may light the candle now, my friend," she said, in a low voice. Stewart had a match ready--had had it ready for long minutes!--and in a trice the wick was alight and the flame shot up clear and steady. After one glance, he sprang in amazement to his feet, for there before him stood a youth--the handsomest he had ever seen--Peter Pan come to earth again!--his hand at the visor of his traveling-cap in mock salute. "Well!" said Stewart, after a moment of amazed and delighted silence. "I believe you are a witch! Let me look at you!" and he caught up the candle and held it above his head.