rned his waxlike features toward him the youth screamed:

"Gawd! Jim Conklin!"

The tall soldier made a little commonplace smile. "Hello, Henry," he
said.

The youth swayed on his legs and glared strangely. He stuttered and
stammered. "Oh, Jim--oh, Jim--oh, Jim--"

The tall soldier held out his gory hand. There was a curious red and
black combination of new blood and old blood upon it. "Where yeh been,
Henry?" he asked. He continued in a monotonous voice, "I thought mebbe
yeh got keeled over. There 's been thunder t' pay t'-day. I was
worryin' about it a good deal."

The youth still lamented. "Oh, Jim--oh, Jim--oh, Jim--"

"Yeh know," said the tall soldier, "I was out there." He made a
careful gesture. "An', Lord, what a circus! An', b'jiminey, I got
shot--I got shot. Yes, b'jiminey, I got shot." He reiterated this
fact in a bewildered way, as if he did not know how it came about.

The youth put forth anxious arms to assist him, but the tall soldier
went firmly as if propelled. Since the youth's arrival as a guardian
for his friend, the other wounded men had ceased to display much
interest. They occupied themselves again in dragging their own
tragedies toward the rear.

Suddenly, as the two friends marched on, the tall soldier seemed to be
overcome by a tremor. His face turned to a semblance of gray paste.
He clutched the youth's arm and looked all about him, as if dreading to
be overheard. Then he began to speak in a shaking whisper:

"I tell yeh what I'm 'fraid of, Henry--I'll tell yeh what I'm 'fraid
of. I 'm 'fraid I 'll fall down--an' them yeh know--them damned
artillery wagons--they like as not 'll run over me. That 's what I 'm
'fraid of--"

The youth cried out to him hysterically: "I 'll take care of yeh, Jim!
I 'll take care of yeh! I swear t' Gawd I will!"

"Sure--will yeh, Henry?" the tall soldier beseeched.

"Yes--yes--I tell yeh--I'll take care of yeh, Jim!" protested the
youth. He could not speak accurately because of the gulpings in his
throat.

But the tall soldier continued to beg in a lowly way. He now hung
babelike to the youth's arm. His eyes rolled in the wildness of his
terror. "I was allus a good friend t' yeh, wa'n't I, Henry? I 've
allus been a pretty good feller, ain't I? An' it ain't much t' ask, is
it? Jest t' pull me along outer th' road? I'd do it fer you, wouldn't
I, Henry?"

He paused in piteous anxiety to await his friend's reply.

The y