jab
that doesn't seem to heal well. Then I had a dose of both
gases--chlorine and mustard--and both all but killed me. Last I've a
weak place in my spine. There's a vertebra that slips out of place
occasionally. The least movement may do it. I _can't_ guard against
it. The last time it slipped out I was washing my teeth. I'm in
mortal dread of this. For it twists me out of shape and hurts
horribly. I'm afraid it'll give me paralysis."

"Humph! It would. But it can be fixed.... So that's all they did to
you?"

Underneath the dry humor of the little doctor, Lane thought he
detected something akin to anger.

"Yes, that's all they did to my body," replied Lane.

Doctor Bronson, during a careful and thorough examination of Lane's
heart, lungs, blood pressure, and abdominal region, did not speak
once. But when he turned him over, to see and feel the hole in Lane's
back, he exclaimed: "My God, boy, what made this--a shell? I can put
my fist in it."

"That's the bayonet jab."

Doctor Bronson cursed in a most undignified and unprofessional manner.
Then without further comment he went on and completed the examination.

"That'll do," he said, and lent a hand while Lane put on his clothes.
It was then he noticed Lane's medal.

"Ha! The _Croix de Guerre!_... Daren, I was a friend of your
father's. I _know_ how that medal would have made him feel. Tell me
what you did to get it?"

"Nothing much," replied Lane, stirred. "It was in the Argonne, when we
took to open fighting. In fact I got most of my hurts there.... I
carried a badly wounded French officer back off the field. He was a
heavy man. That's where I injured my spine. I had to run with him. And
worse luck, he was dead when I got him back. But I didn't know that."

"So the French decorated you, hey?" asked the doctor, leaning back
with hands on hips, and keenly eyeing Lane.

"Yes."

"Why did not the American Army give you equal honor?"

"Well, for one thing it was never reported. And besides, it wasn't
anything any other fellow wouldn't do."

Doctor Bronson dropped his head and paced to and fro. Then the
door-bell rang in the reception room.

"Daren Lane," began the doctor, suddenly stopping before Lane, "I'd
hesitate to ask most men if they wanted the truth. To many men I'd
lie. But I know a few words from me can't faze you."

"No, Doctor, one way or another it is all the same to me."

"Well, boy, I can fix up that vertebra so it won't slip out again....