wore his uniform, poor fellow!
It gave him a sense of dignity. His eyes, accustomed to the dimmer
light, took in the situation first; he smiled nervously and waited.

Northrup in a moment grasped the essentials.

"So you've been over there, too?" was what he said. The angry gleam in
his eyes softened. At least he and Rivers could speak the common
language of comrades-in-arms.

"Yes, I've been there," Larry answered. "When I came back, I had
nowhere else to go. Northrup, you wonder why I am here. Good God! How
I've wanted to tell you."

"Well, I'm here, too, Rivers. Life has been stronger than either of
us. We've both drifted back."

Larry turned away his head. It was then that Northrup caught the full
significance of what life had done to Rivers!

"Northrup, let me talk to you. Let me plunge in--before any one comes.
They won't let me talk. It's like being in prison. It's hell. I've
thought of you, you're the only one who can really help. And I dared
not even ask for you!"

Larry was now nervously twisting his fingers, and his face grew
ashen.

"I'm listening, Rivers. Go on."

Northrup had a feeling as if he were back among those scenes where
time was always short, when things that must be said hurriedly gripped
a listener. The conventions were swept aside.

"They--they couldn't understand, anyway," Larry broke in. "They've got
a fixed idea of me; they wouldn't know what it was that changed me,
but you will.

"Everyone's kind. I haven't anything to complain of, but good God!
Northrup, I'm dying, and what's to be done--must be done quickly.
You--see how it is?"

"Yes, Rivers, I see." There could be no mercy in deceiving this
desperate man.

"I knew you would. Day after day, lately, I've been saying that over
in my mind. I remembered the night in the shack on the Point. I knew
you would understand!"

"Perhaps your longing brought me, Rivers. Things like that happen, you
know."

Northrup, moved by pity, laid his hand on the shrunken ones near him.
All feeling of antagonism was gone.

"It began the night I was shot," Larry's voice fell, "and Mary-Clare
will not let me talk of those times. She thinks the memory will keep
me from getting well! Good Lord! Getting well! Me!

"There were two of us that night, Northrup, two of us crawling away
from the hell in the dark. You know!"

"Yes, Rivers, I know."

"I'd never met him--the other chap--before, but we got talking to each
other, when we could, so as