ow, and why did he not brush them away?

A vague trouble dawned in the breast of O Sana San. Running back to the
field, she gathered a handful of wild flowers and returned to the
soldier. The tears no longer fell, but his lips quivered and his face
was distorted with pain. She looked about her in dismay. The coolies
were down by the river, drinking from their hands and calling to one
another; the only person to whom she could appeal was the foreigner with
the red cross on his arm who was adjusting a bandage for a patient at
the end of the line.

With halting steps and many misgivings, she timidly made her way to his
side; then placing her hands on her knees, she bowed low before him. The
embarrassment of speaking to a stranger and a foreigner almost
overwhelmed her, but she mustered her bravest array of English, and
pointing to the stretcher, faltered out her message:

"Soldier not happy very much is. I sink soldier heart sorry."

The Red Cross orderly looked up from his work, and his eyes followed her
gesture.

"He is hurt bad," he said shortly; "no legs, no arms."

"_So--deska_?" she said politely, then repeated his words in puzzled
incomprehension: "Nowarms? Nowarms?"

When she returned to the soldier she gathered up the flowers which she
had dropped by the wayside, and timidly offered them to him. For a long
moment she waited, then her smile faded mid her hand dropped. With a
child's quick sensitiveness to rebuff, she was turning away when an
exclamation recalled her.

The prisoner was looking at her in a strange, distressed way; his
deep-set gray eyes glanced down first at one bandaged shoulder, then at
the other, then he shook his head.

As O Sana San followed his glance, a startled look of comprehension
sprang into her face. "Nowarms!" she repeated softly as the meaning
dawned upon her, then with a little cry of sympathy she ran forward and
gently laid her flowers on his breast.

The cavalcade moved on, under the warm spring sun, over the smooth white
road, under the arching cryptomerias; but little O Sana Sun stood with
her butterfly net over her shoulder and watched it with troubled eyes.
A dreadful something was stirring in her breast, something clutched at
her throat, and she no longer saw the sunshine and the flowers. Kneeling
by the roadside, she loosened the little basket which was tied to her
_obi_ and gently lifted the lid. Slowly at first, and then with eager
wings, a dozen captive butterfli