garden in the rear of the R. A. P., and returned with two small twigs.
The M. O. bound them together in the form of a cross. Barry took it and
hastened to McCuaig's side.

The hurried breathing and sunken cheeks of the wounded man showed that
the end was not far. As Barry knelt beside him, he opened his eyes.
There was a look of distress upon his face, which Barry understood. God
was near. And God was terrible. He wanted his priest.

"Barry," he whispered, "I've not--been a good man. I haven't been--mean
to anybody,--but I used--to swear--and fight, and--"

"Mac, listen to me. We're all the same," said Barry, in a quiet, clear
voice. "Suppose I'd injured you."

"You wouldn't--Barry."

"But suppose I did some real mean thing to you, and then came and said I
was sorry, would you forgive me?"

"Would I--I'd never think--of anything--you did--to me, Barry."

"Mac, that's the way your Father in Heaven feels to you. We have all
done wrong, but He says, 'I will blot out all your sins.' You needn't
fear to trust Him, Mac."

"I guess--that's so, Barry--I guess that's--all right."

"Yes, it's all right. Now I'll say a prayer. Look, Mac!"

He held up the little wooden cross before his eyes. A smile of joy and
surprise transfigured the dying face.

"I see it!--I see--it!" he whispered, and made a movement with his lips.
Barry laid the cross upon them, and with that symbol of the Divine love
and of the Divine sacrifice pressed to the dying lips, he prayed in
words such as a child might use.

For some time after the prayer McCuaig lay with his eyes shut, then
with a sudden accession of strength, he opened them and looking up into
Barry's eyes, said:

"Barry, I'm all right now. . . . You helped me again."

The long thin hands, once of such iron strength, began to wander weakly
over the blanket, until touching Barry's they closed upon it, and held
it fast.

"I--won't--forget--you--ever--" he whispered. The nerveless fingers with
difficulty lifted Barry's hand to the cold lips. "Good--bye--Bar--ry--"
he said.

"Good-bye, dear old comrade. Good-bye, dear old friend," said Barry in
a clear quiet voice, gazing through his falling tears straight into the
dying eyes.

"Good--night--" The whisper faded into silence. A quiet smile lay on
the white face. The eyes closed, there was a little tired sigh, and the
brave tender spirit passed on to join that noble company of immortals
who abide in the Presence of the Eternal God