ner man than Tony Johnson might have taken
for brotherly pride. Then he shook his mop, and laughed at him,

"_Leave you?_ To save my skin? No, Tony, not to save my soul!"

CHAPTER V

MR. VALIANT _summoned. His Will. His last
Words._

Then said he, "I am going to my Father's. . . . My
Sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my
Pilgrimage, and my Courage and Skill to him
that can get it." . . . And as he went down
deeper, he said, "Grave, where is thy Victory?"

So he passed over, and all the Trumpets sounded
for him on the other side.
BUNYAN, _Pilgrim's Progress_

Coming out of a hospital tent, at headquarters, the surgeon cannoned
against, and rebounded from, another officer,--a sallow man, not young,
with a face worn more by ungentle experiences than by age, with weary
eyes that kept their own counsel, iron-gray hair, and a moustache that
was as if a raven had laid its wing across his lips and sealed them.

"Well?"

"Beg pardon, Major. Didn't see you. Oh, compound fracture and bruises.
But it's all right; he'll pull through."

"Thank God."

It was probably an involuntary expression; for prayer and praise were
not much in the Major's line, as a jerk of the surgeon's head would have
betrayed to an observer. He was a bright little man, with his feelings
showing all over him, but with gallantry and contempt of death enough
for both sides of his profession; who took a cool head, a white
handkerchief, and a case of instruments, where other men went hot
blooded with weapons, and who was the biggest gossip, male or female, of
the regiment. Not even the major's taciturnity daunted him.

"Didn't think he'd as much pluck about him as he has. He'll do all right
if he doesn't fret himself into a fever about poor Jackanapes."

"Whom are you talking about?" asked the Major, hoarsely.

"Young Johnson. He--"

"What about Jackanapes?"

"Don't you know? Sad business. Rode back for Johnson, and brought him
in; but, monstrous ill-luck, hit as they rode. Left lung--"

"Will he recover?"

"No. Sad business. What a frame--what limbs--what health--and what good
looks! Finest young fellow--"

"Where is he?"

"In his own tent," said the surgeon, sadly.

The Major wheeled and left him.

* * * * *

"Can I do anything else for you?"

"Nothing, thank you. Except--Major! I wish