Crittenden

"Where are you hurt?"

The man pointed to his left side.

"Through?"

"Yes, sir."

That day he had seen a soldier stagger out from the firing-line with

half his face shot away and go staggering to the rear without aid. On

the way he met a mounted staff officer, and he raised his hand to his

hatless, bleeding forehead, in a stern salute and, without a gesture for

aid, staggered on. The officer's eyes filled with tears.

"Lieutenant," said a trooper, just after the charge on the trenches, "I

think I'm wounded."

"Can you get to the rear without help?"

"I think I can, sir," and he started. After twenty paces he pitched

forward--dead. His wound was through the heart.

At the divisional hospital were more lights, tents, surgeons, stripped

figures on the tables under the lights; rows of figures in darkness

outside the tents; and rows of muffled shapes behind; the smell of

anæsthetics and cleansing fluids; heavy breathing, heavy groaning, and

an occasional curse on the night air.

Beyond him was a stretch of moonlit road and coming toward him was a

soldier, his arm in a sling, and staggering weakly from side to side.

With a start of pure gladness he saw that it was Crittenden, and he

advanced with his hand outstretched.

"Are you badly hurt?"

"Oh, no," said Crittenden, pointing to his hand and arm, but not

mentioning the bullet through his chest.

"Oh, but I'm glad. I thought you were gone sure when I saw you laid out

on the hill."

"Oh, I am all right," he said, and his manner was as courteous as though

he had been in a drawing-room; but, in spite of his nonchalance, Grafton

saw him stagger when he moved off.

"I say, you oughtn't to be walking," he called. "Let me help you," but

Crittenden waved him off.

"Oh, I'm all right," he repeated, and then he stopped. "Do you know

where the hospital is?"

"God!" said Grafton softly, and he ran back and put his arm around the

soldier--Crittenden laughing weakly: "I missed it somehow."

"Yes, it's back here," said Grafton gently, and he saw now that the

soldier's eyes were dazed and that he breathed heavily and leaned on

him, laughing and apologizing now and then with a curious shame at his

weakness. As they turned from the road at the hospital entrance,

Crittenden dropped to the ground.