d of course
the sentry, who did not know that he belonged.

"Gelatin, to be sure," replied Peter, and produced the horns.

It was a joyous moment in the long low ward, with its triple row of
beds, its barred windows, its clean, uneven old floor. As if to add a
touch of completeness the sentry outside, peering in, saw the wheeled
chair with its occupant, and celebrated this advance along the road to
recovery by placing on the window-ledge a wooden replica of himself,
bayonet and all, carved from a bit of cigar box.

"Everybody is very nice to me," said Jimmy contentedly. "When my father
comes back I shall tell him. He is very fond of people who are kind to
me. There was a woman on the ship--What is bulging your pocket, Peter?"

"My handkerchief."

"That is not where you mostly carry your handkerchief."

Peter was injured. He scowled ferociously at being doubted and stood
up before the wheeled chair to be searched. The ward watched joyously,
while from pocket after pocket of Peter's old gray suit came Jimmy's
salvage--two nuts, a packet of figs, a postcard that represented a stout
colonel of hussars on his back on a frozen lake, with a private soldier
waiting to go through the various salutations due his rank before
assisting him. A gala day, indeed, if one could forget the grave in the
little mountain town with only a name on the cross at its head, and if
one did not notice that the boy was thinner than ever, that his hands
soon tired of playing and lay in his lap, that Nurse Elisabet, who was
much inured to death and lived her days with tragedy, caught him to her
almost fiercely as she lifted him back from the chair into the smooth
white bed.

He fell asleep with Peter's arm under his head and the horns of the deer
beside him. On the bedside stand stood the wooden sentry, keeping
guard. As Peter drew his arm away he became aware of the Nurse Elisabet
beckoning to him from a door at the end of the ward Peter left the
sentinel on guard and tiptoed down the room. Just outside, round a
corner, was the Dozent's laboratory, and beyond the tiny closet where
he slept, where on a stand was the photograph of the lady he would marry
when he had become a professor and required no one's consent.

The Dozent was waiting for Peter. In the amiable conspiracy which
kept the boy happy he was arch-plotter. His familiarity with Austrian
intrigue had made him invaluable. He it was who had originated the idea
of making Jimmy respons