n prison ahead--and
by all one hears they're not rest-camps."

"No," said Jim. He tried to move, but failed, sinking back with a
stifled groan. "I wish I knew if I was damaged much. Are there any
doctors here?"

"There was two, a while back. They fixed us up somehow, and we
haven't seen a hair of them since. The guards throw rations--of a
sort--at us twice a day. 'Tis badly off we'd be, if it weren't for
the priest."

"Is he French?"

"He is--and a saint, if there ever was one. There he comes now."
Callaghan crossed himself reverently.

A hush had come over the church. The _cure_, in his vestments, had
entered, going slowly to the altar.

Jim struggled up on his elbow. There was perfect silence in the
church; men who had been talking ceased suddenly, men who moaned in
their pain bit back their cries. So they lay while the little priest
celebrated Mass, as he had done every morning since the Germans swept
over his village: at first alone, and, since the first few days to a
silent congregation of helpless men. They were of all creeds and some
of no creed at all: but they prayed after him as men learn to pray
when they are at grips with things too big for them. He blessed them,
at the end, with uplifted hand; and dim eyes followed him as he went
slowly from the church.

He was back among them, presently, in the rusty black cassock. The
guards had brought in the men's breakfast--great cans of soup and
loaves of hard, dark bread. They put them down near the door,
tramping out with complete disregard of the helpless prisoners. The
priest would see to them, aided by the few prisoners who could move
about, wounded though they were. In any case the guard had no order
to feed prisoners; they were not nurse-maids, they said.

"Ah, my son! You are awake!"

Jim smiled up at the _cure_.

"Have I been asleep long, sir?"

"Three days. They brought you in last Friday night. Do you not
remember?"

"No," said Jim. "I don't remember coming here." He drank some soup
eagerly, but shook his head at the horrible bread. The food cleared
his head, and when the little _cure_ had gone away, promising to
return as soon as possible, he lay quietly piecing matters together in
his mind. Callaghan helped him: the Dublins had been in the line next
his own regiment when they had gone "over the top" on that last
morning.

"Oh, I remember all that well enough," Jim said. "We took two lines
of trench, and then the