s
wound, and soon the marquee was left to itself for the night. For the
first time in several days, in spite of the fact that his head felt
very bad, he went to sleep, and his waking was full of strange,
unutterable horror. He found himself crawling with his hands and knees
on the sand. He was awake, but why was it he could not see? He
crawled round and round, but could find nothing but sand, sand
everywhere, nothing but sand. He felt terribly alone, and he could not
recall the reason of it all, or why he could not see. He called out in
his terror--again--and again--what, he did not know. Then an old
sister seized him. "You poor old boy. What have you crawled out of
the tent for?" And he remembered again where he was. She took him
back to his bed, soothed him as a mother would calm a terrified child.
Mac was trembling like a leaf.

Tuesday dragged wearily by. He was in low condition, and very, very
tired and his head ached violently. Between the flies, the heat and
the uncomfortable bed, it was not a happy home; but the kindness of the
sisters and the other wounded men who came to him occasionally, went
far towards making it all bearable. There were men worse than he in
that marquee, men in agony and near to death, with torn, septic wounds,
but sticking it out without a word.

Wednesday brought changes. The padre of the hospital ship had cabled
to his father in London that he was all right, and what hospital he was
going to; and now several people came to see him. Mac told them he
would like to go home as soon as he could be sent, as there could be no
more campaigning for him and the sooner he was home the better. The
M.O. said that a hospital-ship was leaving on the following day and
that he would be sent by it. Mac was put in a ward that afternoon. He
was brought some clothes for the morning, but, being fed up with bed,
unknown to the sister, he donned them straight away and went and sat by
the window. He felt very groggy, but getting up and about bucked him
up tremendously.

Next morning he took farewell of the sister, and, clad in a Tommy
uniform built for some one many sizes smaller, a pair of heavy boots of
huge calibre, and a Tommy cap perched on top of his bandages, he walked
downstairs with an orderly. But out in the open the sun was too much
for him and laid him low, when he was converted into a stretcher-case,
and swung away on an ambulance much more comfortable than the one which
bro