"Dear God, what a chief! I risked everything, and I've lost everything by my own vanity.

Barbazon's--the horseshoe--among the wolves, just to show I could do things better than any one else--as if I had the patent for setting the world right.

And now--now--" The thought of the bridge, of Marchand's devilish design, shot into his mind, and once more he was shaken.

"The bridge! Blind! Mother!" he called in a voice twisted in an agony which only those can feel to whom life's purposes are even more than life itself.

Then, with a moan, he became unconscious, and his head rolled over against Rockwell's cheek.
The damp of his brow was as the damp of death as Rockwell's lips touched it.
"Old boy, old boy!" Rockwell said tenderly, "I wish it had been me instead.