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 She was gone? I must tramp, then, and quickly! I roll’d off, and got to my feet— He didn’t! The lightning grinn’d out, and I saw him complete....

Tall, strongly-built: twisted-up....Face? he hadn’t one—Ay, it was bad; But, what shocking and scaring I’d got any use for, I reckon’d I’d had; And things somehow were different: no longer a monster, a warning, a Dread— Just human and helpless he lay there; and lonely; and dead.

What could I do for him, I, his one comrade? Maybe I could send Word for him, somehow, to mother or children, or sweetheart, or friend? Gently I search’d the poor heap....The one bad bit in that was the thought That may be he might have dispatches?—Thank God, though, he’d not:

I hadn’t to rob him, the poor finish’d fellow! A scorch’d pocket-book, That might give his name, and the people to tell, I discover’d and took; Then, I reverently settled him straight as I could, shook his....wrist, for Good-bye; And there I’d to leave him, alone. On! the drift was flood-high,