With a sharp cry the poor lad dropped his
paddle, and sank into the bottom of the boat.
At this moment the others dared not stop; but, with hearts torn with
anguish at seeing their best and bravest thus stricken, they paddled
on, until they had rejoined their party and passed beyond the reach of
Seminole pursuit.
A few hours later, on a grassy point that projected into the river,
which was flecked by glints of the sunlight the lad had loved so well,
and which sifted down upon him through the moss-draped branches of a
venerable oak, Has-se (the Sunbeam) lay dying. Beside him, and holding
one of his hands, sat Rene de Veaux, so numbed by this great and sudden
sorrow that even the comfort of tears was denied him, and his eyes were
dry and strained.
"Oh Has-se, Has-se!" he cried. "To think that it is for me that thy
life is given, and that for my sake only thou art lying here thus
stricken to thy death!"
"Grieve not so sorely, Ta-lah-lo-ko, my brother. A brave warrior fears
not death in any form; and when it comes to him while he is truly
performing his duty, it is to be hailed with joy for the honor it
confers."
"But thy life was so full of promise, and they whom thou lovest will
miss thee so terribly."
"If my life had promise, then is that promise fulfilled in my death.
For those left to mourn I am truly grieved. It is for them that, while
I am still able to speak, I would ask a favor of thee, Ta-lah-lo-ko.
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