Edwards's voice was becoming much weaker. He paused frequently between words. The hospital steward, standing behind the wounded man, glanced up at Captain Cortland, shaking his head. "Was the road infested with roving parties of guerillas?" inquired Captain Cortland. "No, sir," replied the bookkeeper. "I didn't run into any trouble until I reached Bantoc. The natives here must have known that the trouble was coming, for concealed rascals fired on me just as I got alongside the town. They wounded me and my horse." The other officers, with the exception of the absent Lieutenant Holmes, were now at the porch, listening quietly. "Freeman, I must keep the rest of your company here," explained Captain Cortland. "And Hampton, your duties here are such that I can't very well spare you from post. So I shall have to send Lieutenant Prescott to Seaforth's. Lieutenant Prescott, assemble the company without an instant's delay." There was little need to speak of delay. Every soldier left on the post and not engaged in actual duty was as near to the spot as he could be, for all were interested in this latest news. "Mr. Prescott, don't take the time to march your men to the parade ground. Assemble B Company right here. Pick out the sixty men you want. Sergeant Overton will help you. Take sixty men, two days' rations and a hundred and fifty rounds of cartridges per man. Take blankets, ponchos and shelter tents. Detail your men and be ready to march at the earliest possible moment." As the call for formation sounded Edwards uttered a fervent: "Thank heaven!" The hospital steward forced a draught of medicine down the wounded man's throat. Quickly the sixty men were detailed, those who had been on sick report lately, or those who for any other reason were unfitted for a long, swift march being rejected. "Detachment, fall out," ordered Lieutenant Prescott. "Sergeant Overton, see to the equipping of the men for this hike. Don't let any man idle any time away. I'll soon be with you in barracks, for minutes may be invaluable." Edwards had fallen back once more, lying with his eyes closed. The hospital steward, one hand on the wounded one's pulse, looked at Captain Cortland and shook his head. "Mr. Edwards," called the captain. There was no answer. "Is he dead?" asked the post commander in a low voice. "No, sir, but he is unconscious and there's only a feeble flutter at the pulse." As if to prove that he was still conscious, Edwards's lips tried to frame the words: "Thank heav----" A sigh, and Edwards's head sank forward on his chest. "He's gone, sir; there's no pulse," said the hospital steward. Edwards's brave mission was ended. He had carried the word of danger to Fort Franklin, but he could not live to see the relief or vengeance detail set out. As soon as it was certain that the bookkeeper had really ceased to breathe, Captain Cortland had the hospital steward summon men, who carried the remains away.