Page:War; or, What happens when one loves one's enemy, John Luther Long, 1913.djvu/372

WAR battle I turn my head often, expecting to see her, thinking I hear her. I am always ready."

"Ready for what?" asks I.

"To fire," says Dave.

"On her—whoever it is?"

"Yes. I must kill her when she comes. She killed Jon. She made a traitor of me. She must do no more harm. I mustn't kill her here. No, there must not be two deaths on you, daddy. Maybe I couldn't—here! But I must—I will—kill her. She's a murderer."

That night he disappeared.

The letter Jon got that day, on the Square, from Dave, was in Jonathan's pocket when he died—all black and ragged, but in Dave's big handwriting—easy to read—very easy to read. Evelyn's got it in a little ivory box up-stairs—all alone. But we've read it so often, with so many tears, that I know it by heart—every word. It is the last testament of Jon and Dave together. For, as you will remember, after that they met but once—just long enough for one to shoot the other. 356