"There's a man in the wood," observed Lettice.
She had dropped her work and sat immobile, her intent gaze probing the shadows of the distant trees. Dorothea with an impatient sigh rolled over and sat up too.
"There, under that fir-tree--don't you see him? Now he, he, he's stooping down behind the bush."
"What eyes you have, Lettice!" said Dorothea, screwing up her own. "I can't see any old thing!"
"I've been watching him for some time. I think he's hiding."
"He was there before you came back, and then he got down out of sight. I don't think he can get away. I think he's hurt."
"There's been a lot of firing this morning down by the river."
Lettice did not say she thought anything. She stuck her needle in her stocking and prepared to get up. She stood a moment shading her eyes, piercing the depths of the pine wood with her far-searching look, and then got under way to descend the hill. Dorothea seized her hand.
"Oh, don't, Lettice--it's sure to be some deserter, you know there are heaps, and you haven't even got your big scissors!"
"I am going to see if there are any mushrooms on the hill by the crucifix," said Lettice in the softly distinct tones which admitted no discussion.
Lettice did not wait; when Dorothea came running out of the house with the carving-knife tucked inside her blouse, she was already at the white bridge over the brook. Dorothea overtook her half-way across the stubble field. She was making better time up the hill than ever she had before.
"Oh, darling Lettice, don't, don't go! Let me--it doesn't matter about me, I can take care of myself, and I don't mind things, but you know what it was to you last time! Lettice darling--_please_!"
Lettice shook off her hand. "I saw him again just now," she said. "He was wearing those leather overall things."
Next moment Dorothea loosed her hold on Lettice and ran on alone. She had seen him too.
He came out of the woods towards them, lurching like a drunkard. And Dorothea knew him, spite of disfiguring dust and blood, and his face--that face! His cheek had been sliced open; a flap of raw red flesh hung down over his jaw; his teeth showed white in the gap, like a skeleton's. He tried to wave back the girls, he tried to speak, a thick jumble of words; his feet dragged heavily together, and down he went, full length in the grass.