The moment I could I made for the stretchers and asked the doctor how Hutton was. “Dying, poor fellow,” was the reply. “It will be all over with him in less than an hour. Go to him, he has asked for you several times. I expect he will remain conscious to the end.” In a moment I was kneeling by my poor pal’s side, close to whom squatted old Jack, who was swearing softly and tying a bandage round his own leg. “How goes it, old chap?” I asked, taking his hand. “Dick, dear boy,” he gasped, “I’m glad you wiped out the beggar who shot me. Those are not Christian sentiments, I know, but very human, still, let him slide. Listen, old chap. Your mother knows Lady ---- well. I’m her son Eustace. Yes, old chap, I’ve never told you my yarn, but now you know it, as you must have heard it, although the affair took place years before your time. Dick, on the honour of a dying man, I was innocent. Would to God I could prove it to the old regiment. I knew your mother well. Now promise to write to her and get her to break the news to my mother, and let her tell her that as I lay dying I swore to you I was innocent of that crime, and that if I’ve lived like a waster I’ve died like a man; and, Dick, when I’m dead take the locket from my neck and send it to your mother, she’ll know whom to give it to; and, Dick, dear boy, get home out of this hell of drink and brutality; there is nothing in it, only a wasted life and a death without honour like mine.” All this had been gasped out in short sentences, and to try and cheer him up I said: “But, Hutton, old pal, you don’t die without honour; you got your death-wound fighting bravely for Queen and flag.” He smiled like a child and muttered: “Yes, Dick, Queen and flag, God bless them, Queen and flag.” For some time he lay still, while I wiped away the bloody froth from his lips, administering now and then some weak rum and water, and vainly tried to remember some prayer, if only to counteract the awful oaths rumbled out by old Jack, who had by now taken post on the other side of the dying man. “Say, Dick,” growled the old pirate, as he expectorated a worn-out chew of tobacco, “don’t yer think our shipmate’s parted his moorings?” And he swore with due solemnity. “Coz I feels inclined to go back to the ruddy bush and see as if I can’t do something to square this ’ere blooming account. Yo’ve done your bit, you have, when yer lifted the hatch off that swine’s head, but I guess I feel as if I wants to do a bit myself.” And the old fellow made to rise from the ground, but sank back as Hutton again opened his eyes and gasped out: