ready kneeling by the tall young soldier on whose brow the last dew was
settling, on whose fine, clear-cut face the shadow of the death angel's
wings was already traced. The poor fellow's eyes opened wearily as he
sipped the stimulant pressed upon him by eager, sympathetic hands, and
glanced slowly about as though in search of some familiar face; and so
they fell on those of Billy Gray, who, forgetful for the moment of his
own hurt, threw himself by the stranger's side and seized his clammy
hand. A half smile flitted over the pale face, the other hand groped at
the breast of his blue shirt and slowly drew forth a packet, stained and
dripping with the blood that welled slowly from a shothole in the broad
white breast. "Give to--General Drayton--Promise," he gasped, and pushed
it painfully toward Billy Gray. Then the brave eyes closed, the weary
head fell back; and Gray, staring as though in stupefaction into the
placid face, found himself drooping, too, growing dizzy and faint and
reeling, but still holding on to his trust.

"Don't some of you know him?" asked the surgeon. "He's past helping now,
poor lad. Here, you drink this, Billy;" and he placed a little silver cup
at Gray's pallid lips.

"He came a-runnin' from over at Block House 12 with a note from division
headquarters just as we went in," said a veteran sergeant, drawing the
back of a powder-stained hand across his dripping forehead, then
respectfully stepping back as a young officer bent down and glanced at
Gray.

"Much hurt, Billy, old man? No? Thank God for that! Look at who? Where?
Why, God of heaven, it's Pat Latrobe! Oh, Pat! Pat! dear old boy--has it
come to this!"

CHAPTER XVII.

In the fortnight of incessant action that followed the mad attack of that
starlit Sunday morning there was no place for Billy Gray. Sorely wounded,
yet envied by many a fellow soldier for the glowing words in which the
brigade commander praised his conduct and urged his brevet, the boy had
been carried back to the great reserve hospital at Malate. The breezy
wards were filled with sick or wounded, and certain of the rooms of the
old convent once used for study and recitation had been set apart for
officers. There were three cots in the one to which they bore him, and
two were already occupied. Even in his pain and weakness he could hardly
suppress a cry of dismay; for there, with his arm bandaged and in
splints, his face white from loss of blood, his eyes closed in