he's
got another guess coming. You ought to have seen our officer," he added.
"The first one in the bunch to be 'at 'em.' With a bayonet, too, mind
you. Grabbed one from a private as he ran past, and bombs bursting like
hell all around. Beg pardon, sir," he added, turning to Barry. "He's
some kid, poor chap. He's got his, I guess."

"Who is he?" asked the M. O.

"Lieutenant Cameron, sir."

"Cameron!" cried Barry. "Where is he?"

"They are carrying the stretcher cases right down to the dressing
station, I hear," said the man.

"I'm going, doc," said Barry, and was off at a run.

At the casualty clearing station there was no excitement, the doctors
and orderlies "carrying on" as usual, receiving the wounded, dressing
their wounds, sending them down with the smoothness and despatch
characteristic of their department.

"Cameron?" said the doctor in answer to Barry's question. "Why
certainly, I'll show you." And he led him to Cameron's cot.

"Well, old chap," said the doctor cheerily, "we're going to send you
down in a minute or two. Now don't talk."

Cameron's eyes welcomed Barry.

"Dear old boy," said Barry, dropping on his knees beside him. "I'm
awfully sorry."

"It's all right," whispered Cameron. "They--never--knew.--You'll write
dad--and tell him--I kept--" The voice trailed off into silence. The
morphia was doing its merciful work.

"Kept the faith," said Barry.

"Yes," whispered Cameron with a smile, faint but exultant.

"Good old boy," whispered Barry.

"Yes, I--kept--I kept--"

The bearers came to carry out the stretcher.

"Will he recover?" whispered Barry to the doctor.

"Recover? Surest thing you know," said the doctor in a loud cheery
voice. "We can't spare this kind of stuff, you know."

And again Barry leaned over the stretcher and said, patting Cameron on
the shoulder:

"Good old boy. You make us proud of you. You kept the faith."

CHAPTER XV

THINNING RANKS

"Three months in that hell-hole of the salient have made their mark on
this battalion," said Transport Sergeant Mackay.

"Yes, there's quite a lot of these round the first line and back about
here," replied the pioneer sergeant, who was putting the finishing
touches upon some crosses, that were to be sent up the line that night.

"That's so, Fatty. Whose is that cross you are finishing?"

"That's Lieutenant Salford's, a fine young officer he was, too. Always
had a smile. The deeper the mud the more Sally smiled.