Where the Souls of Men are Calling Part 22

greeting also was affectionate and genuine; for, despite his fading hope of happiness, and the memory of Jeb's face which had worn the stamp of abject fear twenty-four hours earlier, he was too big a man to refuse tribute to a manly deed.

"Well, lad," Tim, his mouth drawn with pain, tried to laugh--tried to "bluff it out" so Jeb would not suspect the truth, "I'm thinkin' thot life's wan domn hole after anither! First, mind ye, 'tis the swimmin'

hole, thin the sh.e.l.l hole, thin a hole in me leg, an' next we know 'tis a stay-for-keeps hole in the ground! W'ot a divil av a hole the ould world is, after all! But me leg'll be all right in a fortnight, lad,"

(oh, Tim, you beloved liar!) "an' thin I'll be back wid the b'ys twict as strong as iver!"

"That's mighty fine news," Jeb laughed. "But I hope to go back with you now!"

"I'm not goin' now," Tim cried angrily. "I've swore 'tis not a step I take till I've said 'G.o.d bless ye' to thot angel nurse!"

"There, there, Tim, keep quiet! Haven't I promised that you could?"

Bonsecours smiled at him.

"Thin w'ot's the lad sayin' about takin' me now?"

"Oh, I only meant when you are ready, Tim," Jeb did his part to quiet the excited little sergeant; then, to the doctor, he added quickly: "I want to go back with the ambulance, that's all. The Americans landed yesterday, and----"

"But," the surgeon gasped at this unusual request, "Barrow needs you!"

"I guess he doesn't, so awfully much," Jeb flushed. "If you can possibly arrange it for me, I'll be greatly obliged. I've--I've just got to get in the ranks, Doctor! I can't explain what I mean--but it's those children! Why, if each of the ten million American fellows who registered for our New Army could see only a part of cruelties I've seen, they'd break their necks getting over here!--and they wouldn't go back, either, not even for Christmas, till the last of these German High-in-Command was in prison, or dead! I'm only asking for a chance to make good----"

"Cut thot out," Tim called huskily. "It hur-rts me leg!"

Bonsecours laughed but, still protesting, said:

"I can't keep the ambulance waiting!"

"You won't have to; I'm ready now."

"But your kit----?"

"Is on my back, sir."

Two big orderlies came in and picked up the stretcher, whereupon Tim grew again excited.

"Put me down, ye little runts," he yelled, "afore I git up an'

smash----"

"There, there," Bonsecours hastily interposed; saying to them: "Take this brave fellow to Dug-out Three--he wants to see Nurse Marian. I'll be right after you." But the instant they had left he turned to Jeb, asking sharply: "Do you realize what your leaving means?"

"I think I do, sir."

"You would deliberately put upon me the responsibility of sending you?"

"Why, yes," Jeb answered, somewhat perplexed.

"Then I refuse!" the surgeon snapped. "I refuse, until you bring me word that your little nurse friend from America desires it!"

Unaware of what was pa.s.sing in Bonsecours' mind, Jeb stared after him in complete amazement. He had intended, of course, to see Marian and say good-bye to her, although it was an interview toward which he looked with so much dread that once or twice he had thought of escaping it, and writing her from somewhere else. Yet now he must bring some word from her to this cranky surgeon, or he dared not leave, at all! His nerves were rattled, and he fumbled through his pockets for the "makings"; spilled the tobacco and threw his ineffectual effort away in disgust.

Marian was in Dug-out Three, with Tim, Bonsecours, and the stretcher-bearers! Oh, well, he told himself, perhaps it would be easier to have them all present!--and he went out resolutely, turning toward the third entrance. But on the threshold his resolution failed, and he drew back, staring.

The soft light from an oil lamp made the interior look warm and attractive, particularly because Marian was standing by the side of Tim, smiling tenderly down at him. Across from her Bonsecours stood, also smiling, but with a look of weariness--perhaps it was unhappiness. The bearers were grinning, as the little sergeant now continued with what, evidently, he had been saying:

"So ye see, la.s.s, I couldn't go Blighty till I'd whispered a 'G.o.d bless ye' to me own, an' only, sister!"

"I'd be very proud if you were my brother, Tim," she replied, soothingly.

"She'd be very proud _if I were_," he looked at Bonsecours with a broad grin. "Now w'ot d'ye know about thot, Doctor! If _I were_, indade!--as if I _wasn't_! Shure, an' if the same blood don't run in both our veins, 'tis not Tim Doreen as would be here now, a-tellin' av it!"

"You're perfectly right," the surgeon laughed. "I did that deed myself, and it ought to make you her brother!"

"_Ought_ to! Faith, an' it _did_!--iver since thot day the blessed angel says to ye: 'Thin do yer dooty an' save 'im!', as she put out her ar-rm for the sacrifice thot kept me here on earth!"

"Please stop--both of you!" she implored.

"Shure, la.s.s, an' 'tis no harm speakin' av a n.o.ble deed. An' now," he added, folding his hands upon his breast, and closing his eyes in mock contentment, "'tis me last wish an' tistament to make the good Doctor Bonsecours me brother-in-law!"

"One must be in his right mind to make a last 'wish and tistament,'"

Marian tried to look at him severely; but, the next instant, she leaned impulsively over and kissed his cheeks--then ran out the doorway.

Jeb had barely time to draw back when she dashed past him and turned toward the road leading above the dug-outs. She might readily have seen him had her haste and confusion been less, because the dawn was coming, and objects in the quadrangle were vaguely beginning to take shape. A new day was creeping up over the hill. The cold, unsympathetic light, matching the compa.s.s of his thoughts, made the world look gray and sordid.

He had heard, and now realized with a new depression that henceforth he could be no more a part of her life than any one of the millions who were fighting the battle of Humanity in this stricken land. Not that he pretended to love her inordinately, by any means, but a man need only love a girl with a very small portion of his heart to feel a throb of pain when she surrenders to some one else. It was this sense of being left behind that hurt; of being deserted by his old playmate--and of deserving it! He turned slowly and followed after her.

She did not hear him as he came up, and when he approached to within a few feet of her he saw the reason. The dawn was streaking the sky with pink and salmon tints, and, although her eyes were gazing into it, her thoughts reached far beyond. Standing upon the hilltop, her hands crossed over the red emblem on her breast, the half-light of soft color touching her immobile face, she typified the Spirit of Mercy poised above the unawakened battlefield, ready at the first gun's crash to fly downward with her warmth, her strength, her sympathy.

For the moment forgetting his own mission in the presence of the transfigured Marian, Jeb stood abashed. Yet the minutes were pa.s.sing, and the ambulance would not wait.

"I--I came up to say good-bye," he stammered, awkwardly. "I'm going."

She turned, seeming reluctant to be torn from her meditations, and quietly asked:

"Where?"

He told her in a few words, adding:

"Bonsecours won't give his permission unless you agree."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

But she knew. From a mult.i.tude of small things, and with an intuition almost divine, she read another chapter of the great surgeon's n.o.bility, and turned her eyes again toward the rainbow east. It was perhaps what she saw there in the changing sunrise that impelled her to whisper softly:

"I hope you'll always be as brave as you were last night, Jeb."

His cheeks burned, but he faced her without flinching and replied:

"I'm never going to run away again, if that's what you mean!"