It must 'a been comin' on for some time.'

'But _what_, lad--_what?_'

'Ah--"what?" says you. That's the trouble, and I can't never make
you _see_--yes, make you _see_--the hell of it. It began with
thinkin'--just with thinkin'--_that first night you led me home from
the breach_. And the things I saw and heard; and then, when I came
here, only meanin' to save _him_--'

He broke off and nodded at the child, who catching his eye, nodded
back smiling.

He and the corporal had evidently made great friends.

But the corporal's gaze, wavering past him, had fixed itself on a
trestle bed in the corner.

'There was a woman,' he said. 'She was stone cold; but the child
told me--until I stopped his mouth, and made a guess at the rest.
I took her down and buried her in the garden. And with that it came
over me that the whole of it--the whole business--was wrong, and that
to put myself right I must kill, and keep on killing. Of course I
knew what the end would be. But I never looked for such luck as
_your_ coming. . . . I was ashamed, first along, catching sight o'
you--not--not ashamed, only I didn't want you to see. But when you
took cover an' waited--though I wouldn't 'a hurt you for worlds--why
then I knew how the end would be.'

'Lad,' said the sergeant, watching him as he panted, 'I don't