sorting out occasionally a hopeless
casualty where a wound was plainly mortal, and setting him aside to leave
room in the ambulances for those the hospitals below might yet save.

One of these mortal cases was a young lieutenant. He knew himself that
there was little or no hope for him, but he smoked a cigarette and spoke
with composure, or simulated composure, to the doctor and the chaplain.

'Hello, padre,' he said, 'looks like a wash-out for me this time. You'll
have to break it to the pater, you know. Afraid he'll take it rather
hard too. Rough luck, isn't it, doc.? But then . . .' His face
twitched with pain, but he covered the break in his voice by blowing a
long cloud of smoke. '. . . After all, it's all in the game, y' know.'
'All in the game,' the chaplain said when he had gone; 'a cruel game, but
gallantly played out. And he's the fourth son to go in this war--and the
last male of his line except his father, the old earl. A family that has
made its mark on a good few history pages--and this is the end of it.
You think it's quite hopeless for him, doctor?'

The doctor looked up in surprise from the fresh slightly wounded case he
was overhauling. 'Hopeless? Why, it's not even---- Oh! him? Yes, I'm
afraid so. . . . I wish Macgillivray would come back,' he went on
irritably. 'He's worth the three of us here put together. Where we have
to fiddle and probe and peer he would just look--just half-shut those
hawk eyes of his and look, and he'd know exactly what to do and what not
to do. . . . That'll do, sergeant; take him off. . . . Where's that
bottle of mine? What's this? Hand? Bandage not hurting you? All
right. Pass him over there for the anti-tetanus. Now, then! . . .'

A burly private, with the flesh of his thigh showing clear white where
the grimy khaki had been cut clear and hung flapping, limped in and
pushed forward a neatly bandaged limb for inspection. 'A doctor did that
up in the trenches,' he remarked. 'Said to tell you 'e did it an' it was
all right, an' I only needed the anti-tempus an' a ticket for 'ome.'

'That's Macgillivray, I'll bet,' said young Dewar. 'Where was this?'

'Fourth German trench, sir,' said the man cheerfully. 'You know we got
four? Four trenches took! We're winnin' this time orright. Fairly got
'em goin', I b'lieve. It'll be Glorious Vict'ry in the 'eadlines
to-morrow.'

'Things like this, you know, must be,' quoted the chaplain softly, as
anot