And then, as he stared, the stricken
giant came to the charred remnant of a stump and crumpled over it
with a great cry, moaning again that name--
"Andre--Andre--"
David hurried to him, and as he put his hands under Black Roger's
arms to help him to his feet, he saw that the charred stump was
not a stump, but the fire-shriveled corpse of Andre, the Broken
Man!
Horror choked back speech on his own lips. Black Roger looked up
at him, and a great breath came in a sob out of his body. Then,
suddenly, he seemed to get grip of himself, and his burned and
bleeding fingers closed about David's hand at his shoulder.
"I knew he was coming here," he said, the words forcing themselves
with an effort through his swollen lips. "He came home--to die."
"Home--?"
"Yes. His mother and father were buried here nearly thirty years
ago, and he worshiped them. Look at him, Carrigan. Look at him
closely. For he is the man you have wanted all these years, the
finest man God ever made, Roger Audemard! When he saw the fire, he
came to shield their graves from the flames. And now he is dead!"
A moan came to his lips, and the weight of his body grew so heavy
that David had to exert his strength to keep him from falling.
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