be held back. Jamie pulled
himself out of the wheel-chair and found his way down the space at the
foot of the cots to the door. He was very straight, and his head was high.

"Just a minute, lads." He dug his hands deep into his pockets. "Before I
give ye the song I've made for ye, there's something I have to be saying
first. Miss O'Leary was right when she said a man has more than one pair
of eyes to see with. He can see grand with his heart--if he's shown the
way. That's what I have to thank ye for this day, the wiping of my memory
clean of those last days, and the showing me how to see anew. Ye've given
Ireland back to me with her lark songs, her blue, dancing water, her
wind-brushed heather like a purple sea. Ye've made the world beautiful for
me again, and ye've given me the heart to sing."

He stopped a minute and smiled again. "I was thinking all this when the
chief came in, and after that I was so busy with the song that sprang into
my mind that I came near forgetting the lot o' ye. If that rascal Patsy
hadn't interrupted me, faith, I might have made the song longer."

Sheila turned back from the window. There was a grin on the face of every
lad, and on the face of Jamie was the look of a man who had found his
dreams again. The song being new to his tongue, he gave it slowly:

"They say the earth's a bit shot up--well, we can say the same,
But, praise to every lad that's fought, the scars they show no shame.
And for those who have prayed for us--why, here's an end to tears.
Sure, God can do much healing in the next handful of years.

"So, Johnnie, set your chanter and blow your pipes full strong,
And, Larry, raise your voice again and lead our marching song.
Let Mac unfurl the colors--till they sweep yon crimson west,
For we're still the Royal Irish, a-fighting with the best."

And that is precisely the way they went when they left the American
Military Hospital No. 10 the next morning. The color-sergeant led. Jamie
walked beside the stretcher to give a hand with the staff. Johnnie sat
bolt upright, bolstered with many pillows, to enable him to get a firm
grip on the pipes, and he skirled the "Shule Aroon" as he had never
skirled before. Larry's voice again boomed in the lead, and every man in
the hospital that had breath to spare cheered them as they passed. And for
every one who saw or heard the going of the Royal Irish, that day, was
left behind a memory green enough to last till the end o