Only，theothersdidnotknowofit，wouldneverhearofit。IfPetersucceededhemighttellthetale，butmostlikelyhewaslyingdeadsomewhereintheno—man’s—landbetweenthelines。Weshouldneverbeheardofagainanymore，butourworkremained。SirWalterwouldknowthat，andhewouldtellourfewbelongingsthatwehadgoneoutinourcountry’sservice。
Wewereinthe_castrolagain，sittingundertheparapets。ThesamethoughtsmusthavebeeninSandy’smind，forhesuddenlylaughed。
’It’saqueerending，Dick。Wesimplyvanishintotheinfinite。IftheRussiansgetthroughtheywillneverrecognizewhatisleftofusamongsomuchofthewreckageofbattle。Thesnowwillsooncoverus，andwhenthespringcomestherewillonlybeafewbleachedbones。UponmysoulitisthekindofdeathIalwayswanted。’AndhequotedsoftlytohimselfaverseofanoldScotsballad:
’Mony’stheaneforhimmaksmane，Butnanesallkenwharheisgane。
Owerhiswhitebanes，whentheyarebare，Thewindsallblawforevermair。’