to help you to get well?"

The man reached down, and taking one of the nurse's hands in his own
bent over and kissed it.

"Senora," he said, "I owe my life to you."

"Will you do something for me, then? Something which I want done more
than anything else in the world?"

"My life is the senora's. I would that I had ten lives to give her."

The woman pulled a letter from out the folds of her nurse's dress. The
envelope was not sealed, and before she fastened it she took the
letter which was in it out and read it over for one last time. Then,
pulling from her waist a little red, white and blue badge pin--one
of those patriotic emblems which so many people wear at times--she
dropped this into the letter, sealed the envelope, and handed it to
the Tagalog. The envelope bore no address.

"I hav'n't put the name of the place on it you said you came from,"
she told the man, "because goodness only knows how it is spelled;
I don't. Besides that, it isn't necessary. You know the place, and
you know the man; the man who has got my picture and his father's in
a gold locket on his watch chain. I want you to give this letter into
his own hands. I expect it will be rather a ticklish job for you to
get away from here and get through the lines, but I guess you can do
it if you try. Other men have. Don't start until you are well enough
so you will have strength to make the whole trip."

A week or so after that, one of the surgeons making his daily visit
reported that Juan had made his escape the previous night, and up to
that time had not been brought back.

"What a shame!" said one of the other nurses. "After all the care
you gave that man, Mrs. Smith. It does seem as if he might have had
a little more gratitude."

Mrs. Smith said nothing aloud. But to herself, when she was alone,
she said: "Well, I suppose some folks would say that I wasn't acting
right, but I guess I've saved the lives of enough of those men since
I've been here so that I'm entitled to one of them if I want him."

Then she went on with her work, and waited; and the waiting was harder
than the work.

An American expedition was slowly toiling across the island of
Luzon to locate and occupy a post in the north. Four companies of
men marched in advance, with a guard in the rear. Between them were
the mule teams with the camp luggage and the ever present hospital
corps. No trace of the enemy had been seen in that part of the island
for weeks. Scouts who had