etter, dad," said Barry. "I believe you are going to
pull through, eh!"

"A lot better, Barry," said his father, "but, my boy, we are soldiers,
you and I. I shall not be long, but remember, we are soldiers."

"All right, dad. I'll try to play the game."

"That's the word, Barry. We must play the game, and by God's grace we
will, you and I--our last game together."

Through the afternoon they talked, between intervals of sleep, resolved
each to help the other in playing to the end, in the manner of British
soldiers, that last, great game.

They talked, of course, of home and their happy days together, going far
back into the earlier years of struggle on the ranch.

"Hard days, Barry, they were, but your mother never failed me. Wonderful
courage she had, and if we were all right, you and I, Barry, she was
always happy. Do you remember her?"

"Yes, dad, quite well. I remember her smiling always."

"Smiling, my God! Smiling through those days. Yes, that's the way she
played the game, and that's the only way, boy."

"Yes, dad," said Barry, and his smile was brighter than ever, but his
knuckles showed white where he gripped the chair.

The nurse came and went, wondering at their bright faces and their
cheery voices. They kept their minds upon the old happy days. They
recalled their canoe trips, their hunting experiences, dwelling mostly
upon the humorous incidents, playing the game. Of the war they spoke
little; not at all of what was to be after--the past, the golden, happy
past, rich in love and in comradeship, that was their one theme.

As night fell, the father grew weary, and his periods of sleep grew
longer, but ever as he woke he found his son's face smiling down upon
him.

"Good boy, Barry," he said once, with an understanding look and an
answering smile. "Don't try too hard, my boy."

"It's all right, dad. I assure you it's all right. You know it is."

"I know, I know, my boy," he said, and fell asleep again.

As the midnight hour drew on, Barry's head, from sheer weariness, sunk
upon his breast. In his sleep he became aware of some one near him. He
sat up, dazed and stupid from his exhaustion and his grief, and found a
nurse at his side.

"Take this," she said softly. "You will need it." She set a tray at his
side.

"Oh, thank you, no!" he said. "I can't eat. I can't touch anything."

"You need it," said the nurse. "You must take it, for his sake, you
know. He will need you."

Her voice arous