through? That young devil is the limit. You'd have thought he was
hunting coyotes."

"Yes, he got through. Got a blighty though, I guess. It was he that told
me about McCuaig."

"Well, Pilot, old man," said Duff, taking him by the arm, "get out!
Get out! Don't waste time. There may be a break any minute. Get out of
here."

Duff was evidently in a fever of anxiety. "You had no right to come up
here anyway; though, by Jove, I'm glad to see you."

"What's the fuss, Duff?" said Barry. "Am I in any more danger than you?
I say," he continued, with tense enthusiasm, "do you realise, Duff, that
as long as Canada lasts they will talk of what you are doing up here
these days?"

"For Heaven's sake, Pilot, get out," said Duff crossly. "You make me
nervous. Besides, you have got to get that wounded man out, you know.
Come along."

He hustled Barry out and over to the neighbouring dugout, where they
found McCuaig with his beloved machine gun still at his side. The
wounded man was very pale, but extremely cheerful, smoking a cigarette.

"I'm glad to see you, sir," he said quietly, reaching out his hand.

"Good old man," said Barry, gripping his hand hard, "but you are a
blamed old fool, you know."

McCuaig made no reply, but there was a happy light on his face. Under
Duff's compelling urging they got the wounded man on a stretcher and
started on their long and painful carry.

"Now, boys," warned Duff, "you are all right up here, except for machine
guns, but don't take any chances further out. That's where the danger
is. When the shells come, don't rush things. Take your time. Now,
good-bye, Pilot, it's worth a lot to have seen you anyway."

"Good-bye, old man," said Barry, smiling at him. "You're the stuff. Good
luck, old man. God keep you."

Duff nodded, and waved him away. The return trip was made in comparative
quiet.

"What do you think, doctor?" said Barry, after the M. O. had completed
his examination.

"Oh, we'll pull him through all right," said the M. O. "When did you get
this, McCuaig?" he continued, touching a small wound over the kidney.

"Dunno, rightly. Guess I got it when we was blown up, yesterday."

"Then why didn't you come in at once?" inquired the M. O. indignantly.

McCuaig looked at him in mild surprise.

"Why, they was all blown up, and there wasn't anybody to run the gun."

The M. O. examined the wound more closely and shook his head at Barry.

"We won't touch that now. We'll just banda