afraid--and they must go on. They must
go on. Oh, Barry, in that hour they need some one to go with them. They
need God."

His son was listening with his heart in his eyes. He was getting a new
view of the soldier and of the soldier's needs.

"Unhappily," continued his father, "God is at best a shadowy being, to
many of them a stranger, to some a terror. Barry," he said, "they need
some one to tell them the truth about God. It's not fair to God, you
know." Here again his father paused and then said very humbly: "I think
I may say, Barry, I know God now, as I did not before. And you helped
me, boy, to know him."

"Oh, dad," cried Barry, passionately. "Not I! I don't know Him at all!"

"Let me tell you how you helped me, Barry. Before I went up the last
time, I wanted--"

He paused abruptly, his face working and his lip quivering.

"Forgive me, my boy. I'm a little weak."

A few moments of silence and then he continued quietly:

"I wanted you, Barry."

The boy's hands were writhing under his knees, but his face and eyes
were quite steady.

"I was terribly lonely. I thought of that strange, dear bond that held
us together, and then like a flash out of the sky came those great
words: 'Like as a father pitieth his children,' and oh, boy, boy! It
came to me then that as I feel toward my boy God feels toward me. Barry,
listen--" His voice fell to a whisper. "I am God's son, as you are
mine. There was no more fear, and I was not nearly so lonely. Tell the
boys--tell the boys the truth about God."

He lay a long time silent, with his eyes closed, and as Barry watched
he saw two tears fall down the white cheeks. It was to him a terrible
sight. Never, not even at his mother's grave, had he seen his father's
tears. It was more than he could endure. He put his face down beside his
father's on the pillow.

"Dad, I understand," he whispered. "I know now what God is like. He is
like you, dad. He gave himself for us, as you, dad, have given yourself
all these years for me."

He was sobbing, but very quietly.

"Forgive me, dad; I'm not crying. I'm just thinking about God and you.
Oh, dad, you are both wonderful! Wonderful!"

"Barry, my boy, tell them. Don't worry yourself about them. Just tell
them about God. He is responsible for them, not you."

"Oh, I will, dad; I promise you I will. I've been all wrong, but I'll
tell them. I'll tell them."

"Thank God, my boy," said his father, with a deep sigh. "Now I'm tired.