May would get it rather hot."

"That will do," said Dickenson; "the man's in such a state of mental
excitement that his captain's ravings impress him and he thinks it is
all true. There, you, as a hospital attendant, must learn to be patient
with the poor fellows under your charge."

"I am, sir," said the man sturdily. "Ask the doctor, sir. I'm doing my
best, for it's sore work sometimes with the poor chaps who are regularly
bad and feel that they are going home--I mean the long home, sir. I've
got six or seven little things--bits of hair, and a silver ring, and a
lucky shilling, and such-like, along with messages to take back with me
for the poor fellows' mothers and sisters and gals; and please goodness
I ever get back to the old country from this blessed bean-feast we're
having, I'm going to take those messages and things to them they're for,
even if I have to walk."

"Ha!" said the young officer, laying his hand on the man's shoulder and
gripping him firmly, for there was a huskiness in his words now, and he
sniffed and passed his hand across his nose.

"Can't help it, sir. I'm hard enough over the jobs, but it touches a
man when it comes to sewing 'em up in their blankets ready for you know
what. Makes you think of them at home."

"Yes," said Dickenson, in quite an altered tone. "There, you know me.
When we get back and you're going to deliver your messages, if you let
me know, orderly, I'll see that you don't have to walk." Dickenson
turned sharply to walk away, but came back. "Try and keep the captain
from making those outrageous charges, my lad."

"I do, sir; but he will keep on."

"Well, go on cooling his bandages, and he'll go off to sleep."

"I hope so, sir," replied the man. "But what about Corporal May?"

"Serve him the same, of course," said Dickenson, and he hurried away,
with Roby's words ringing in his ears.

"Chap wants to be a sort of angel for this work," said the orderly as he
fumbled about his slight garments. "Hankychy, hankychy, where are yer?
Washed you out clean in the little river this morning and dried you on a
hot stone."

"What are you looking for, mate?" said the third patient in the hut
feebly--a man who, with a shattered arm-bone, was lying very still.

"Hankychy," said the orderly gruffly. "Lost it."

"Here it is. You lent it to me to wipe my face and keep off the flies."

"Did I? So I did. All right, mate; keep it. Mind you don't hurt the
flies. Like a