His eyes were steady and
fearless.
"A blackguard--a spy--yet faithful to his friends--even so," he said;
and died.
The boy and girl were left to each other. He had meant it to be so--had
worked for it, suffered for it. In the end Carlyon of the Frontier had
done that which he had set himself to do, at a cost which none other
would ever know--not even the girl who had loved him.
The Penalty
I
"Now then, you fellows, step out there! Step out like the men you are!
Left--right! Left--right! That's the way! Holy Jupiter! Call those chaps
savages! They're gentlemen, every jack one of 'em. That's it, my
hearties! Salute the old flag! By Jove, Monty, a British squad couldn't
have done it better!"
The speaker pushed back his helmet to wipe his forehead. He was very
much in earnest. The African sun blazing down on his bronzed face
revealed that. The blue eyes glittered out of the lean, tanned
countenance. They were full of resolution, indomitable resolution, and
good British pluck.
As the little company of black men swung by, with the rhythmic pad of
their bare feet, he suddenly snatched out his sword and waved it high in
the smiting sunlight.
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