“Had I never forgotten those precepts, my name would still be known with honour.  But, Wilder!” he added with startling energy, “Wilder!—­”

All eyes were bent eagerly on the speaker.  His hand was holding a roll on which he had been reposing as on a pillow.  With a supernatural effort, his form arose on the litter; and, with both hands elevated above his head, he let fall before him that blazonry of intermingled stripes, with its blue field of rising stars, a glow of high exultation illumining each feature of his face, as in his former day of pride.

“Wilder!” he repeated, laughing hysterically, “we have triumphed!”—­Then he fell backward, without motion, the exulting lineaments settling in the gloom of death, as shadows obscure the smiling brightness of the sun.

The End.