The little boy lay on the bloodstained ground, his head back and in the direction of the lower slope.
Jonnie had been certain he was dead. Nobody could take that many submachine g*n slugs in the middle of his body—and a small body—and live.
He felt awful. He knelt beside the torn boy. He was going to pick the body up and he put his hand under the head and lifted it slightly.
There was a light flutter of breath!
Bittie’s eyes trembled open. They were glazed in shock but they saw Jonnie, knew him.
Bittie was moving his lips. A very faint whisper of a voice. Jonnie bent closer to hear.
“I … I wasn’t a very good squire … was I … Sir Jonnie.”
Then tears began to roll sideways from the boy’s eyes.
Jonnie reacted, incredulous! The child thought he had failed.
Jonnie tried to get it out,
