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A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

A Postscript By Clarence
I, Clarence, must write it for him. He proposed that we two go out and see if any help
could be accorded the wounded. I was strenuous against the project. I said that if there
were many, we could do but little for them; and it would not be wise for us to trust
ourselves among them, anyway. But he could seldom be turned from a purpose once
formed; so we shut off the electric current from the fences, took an escort along, climbed
over the enclosing ramparts of dead knights, and moved out upon the field. The first
wounded mall who appealed for help was sitting with his back against a dead comrade.
When The Boss bent over him and spoke to him, the man recognized him and stabbed
him. That knight was Sir Meliagraunce, as I found out by tearing off his helmet. He will
not ask for help any more.
We carried The Boss to the cave and gave his wound, which was not very serious, the
best care we could. In this service we had the help of Merlin, though we did not know it.
He was disguised as a woman, and appeared to be a simple old peasant goodwife. In this
disguise, with brown-stained face and smooth shaven, he had appeared a few days after
The Boss was hurt and offered to cook for us, saying her people had gone off to join
certain new camps which the enemy were forming, and that she was starving. The Boss
had been getting along very well, and had amused himself with finishing up his record.
We were glad to have this woman, for we were short handed. We were in a trap, you see-
-a trap of our own making. If we stayed where we were, our dead would kill us; if we
moved out of our defenses, we should no longer be invincible. We had conquered; in turn
we were conquered. The Boss recognized this; we all recognized it. If we could go to one
of those new camps and patch up some kind of terms with the enemy--yes, but The Boss
could not go, and neither could I, for I was among the first that were made sick by the
poisonous air bred by those dead thousands. Others were taken down, and still others. To-
morrow--
To-morrow. It is here. And with it the end. About midnight I awoke, and saw that hag
making curious passes in the air about The Boss's head and face, and wondered what it
meant. Everybody but the dynamo-watch lay steeped in sleep; there was no sound. The
woman ceased from her mysterious foolery, and started tip-toeing toward the door. I
called out:
"Stop! What have you been doing?"
She halted, and said with an accent of malicious satisfaction:
"Ye were conquerors; ye are conquered! These others are perishing-- you also. Ye shall
all die in this place--every one--except him. He sleepeth now--and shall sleep thirteen
centuries. I am Merlin!"
 
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