Miss Winslow had now settled the group of seven other boys down, and had them seated together near a barb-wire fence at the side of the road, sheltered in the shade of the pine trees of the forest behind them.  She then made her way over to where Jimmy and Mr. Klopper were studying the body in the road, and held her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream as she got a look at his bloodied and torn clothes. 

“Is he…” she asked, her voice shaky. 

Mr. Klopper nodded, leaning back on his haunches and placing his hands over his face in despair. 

“No.” Jimmy replied, and both adults looked at him curiously. 

“What do you mean?” Mr. Klopper asked.

“He isn’t dead.” Jimmy said, and then pointed at the man in the road&r...

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