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.

"Thank you, but I'm afraid I'll have to rest a little while now. I'm all
right now--don't bother--don't--bother. I'm all right. I feel kind o'
sleepy--somehow--very kind--thank--" and he closed his eyes. A surgeon
was passing and Grafton called him.

"He's all right," said the surgeon, with a swift look, adding shortly,
"but he must take his turn."

Grafton passed on--sick. On along the muddy road--through more
pack-trains, wagons, shouts, creakings, cursings. On through the
beautiful moonlight night and through the beautiful tropical forest,
under tall cocoanut and taller palm; on past the one long grave of the
Rough Riders--along the battle-line of the first little fight--through
the ghastly, many-coloured masses of hideous land-crabs shuffling
sidewise into the cactus and shuffling on with an unearthly rustling of
dead twig and fallen leaf: along the crest of the foothills and down to
the little town of Siboney, lighted, bustling with preparation for the
wounded in the tents; bustling at the beach with the unloading of
rations, the transports moving here and there far out on the moonlighted
sea. Down there were straggler, wounded soldier, teamster, mule-packer,
refugee Cuban, correspondent, nurse, doctor, surgeon--the flotsam and
jetsam of the battle of the day.

* * * * *

The moon rose.

"Water! water! water!"

Crittenden could not move. He could see the lights in the tents; the
half-naked figures stretched on tables; and doctors with bloody arms
about them--cutting and bandaging--one with his hands insi