It was the last he ever spoke.
The wood rang with the crossfire of the foes who could not see each other.

Fritz had discharged his piece, and was loading again when he saw Lord Howe suddenly throw up his hands and fall helplessly forward.
He sprang to his side with a cry of dismay.

He strove to hold him up and support him to some place of safety, but could only lay him down beneath a tree hard by, where a ring of Rangers instantly formed around him, whilst the skirmish in the forest was hotly maintained on both sides.
"He is shot through the heart!" cried Stark, in a lamentable voice, as he hastily examined the wound; and indeed the shadow of death had fallen upon the brave, bright, noble face of the young officer.
Just once the heavy lids lifted themselves.

Lord Howe looked into the faces of the two men bending over him, and a faint smile curved his lips.
"Keep them steady," he just managed to whisper, and the next moment his head fell back against Fritz's shoulder.

He had passed into the unknown land where the clamour of battle is no more heard.
It was a terrible blow, and consternation spread through the ranks as it became known.