But the light in the eyes of this dying boy brought her back to the horrible reality of the present.
"Oh, Harry! Harry! Harry!" was all Betty could whisper.
"I'm goin', Betty.

And I wanted--you to say a little prayer for me--and say good-bye to me," he panted.
Betty knelt by the bench and tried to pray.
"I hated to run, Betty, but I waited and waited and nobody came, and the Injuns was getting' in.

They'll find dead Injuns in piles out there.

I was shootin' fer you, Betty, and every time I aimed I thought of you." The lad rambled on, his voice growing weaker and weaker and finally ceasing.

The hand which had clasped Betty's so closely loosened its hold.