‘It’s Mike!’ murmured Aurora.  She knelt in the mud; her trembling hand sought his heart.  ‘Dead!’ she cried.  She looked about her in terror, then, rising to her feet, she ran to others lying near.  They were strangers.  ‘Thank God!’ she cried—­’ thank God!’ Aurora returned to Mike’s side, and, kneeling there, gazed upon him with streaming eyes.  Burton’s face had assumed a Spartan dignity in death.  ‘Poor, poor boy!’ she said, and with her fingers upon his eyelids she whispered a prayer for his soul.  It was long since she had minded to pray for her own, but the dead are so helpless.  They invite even the intercession of the faithless.

A soldier touched her on the shoulder.

‘You’ll have to get out of this, miss,’ he said.  Glancing at the dead face, he corrected himself, and called her Mrs.

Aurora went with him.  She looked closely at the prisoners as they passed, but Jim Done was not amongst them.  Beyond the cordon of troopers she was liberated, and returned wearily to Mrs. Kyley’s tent, for the Kyleys had shifted their prosperous business to the vicinity of Bakery Hill a month before.  At the tent-door she was met by Mary.

‘He is not amongst the dead, thank God!’ said Aurora, ’and he’s not with the prisoners.  Jim is safe, but poor Mike Burton—­’

‘Wounded, is he?’

‘Dead.  Shot through the head.’

Mrs. Kyley threw up her hands.  ‘My God!’ she said.  ’The poor lad!  Oh, Aurora, my dear girl, it’s a bad, bad business!’ The tears were trickling down Mrs. Ben’s plump cheeks.

‘Why, Mary, what else has happened?’

Mrs. Kyley had set her large bulk before the girl, barring the door.

‘You’d better not go in yet awhile, Joy darling.’

‘What is it—­is it Ben?’

‘No, no, it’s not Ben, but someone is in there who is hurt pretty badly.’

Somebody I know?’ Aurora clutched Mary Kyley’s arm, and stared into her face with a sudden new fear.

‘Yes, deary, somebody you know.’

It’s Jim!’

Mary Kyley nodded her bead, and mopped her tears.  ‘Yes, it’s Jimmy Done.’

Aurora paled to her eyes, her lips tightened to thin purple lines across her white teeth, and she fought with Mary for a moment, seeking to make her way into the tent; but Mrs. Kyley was a powerful woman, and in her grasp, when she was really determined, Aurora was as a mere child.

‘For God’s sake, let me see him!’ said the young woman.

‘You mustn’t be a fool, Aurora,’ the washerwoman said firmly.  ’I can’t let you go blundering in on to a sick man—­and this one is a very sick man.’

‘He’s dying!’

’No, no; he’ll not die easily—­he’s tough stuff; but he’s got two ugly wounds, and we’ll have to handle him fine and gently.  Pull yourself up, Aurora dear.’  She wound her strong arms fondly about the girl and kissed her cheek, and, with a restraining arm still about her, led her into the tent.