d
both."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I shall never see you or anybody else again, or a dog or a cat, or a
tree or a flower."

Then, for the first time the dreadful truth broke upon me.

"Good Heavens!" I cried. "Your eyes--?"

"Done in. Blind. It's a bit ironical, isn't it?" He laughed bitterly.

What I said by way of sympathy and consolation is neither here nor
there. I spoke sincerely from my heart, for I felt overwhelmed by the
tragedy of it all. He stretched out his hand and grasped mine.

"I knew you wouldn't fail me. Your sort never does. You understand now
why I wanted you to come?--To prepare the old mother for the shock.
You've seen for yourself that I'm sound of wind and limb--as fit as a
fiddle. You can make it quite clear to her that I'm not going to die
yet awhile. And you can let her down easy on the real matter. Tell her
I'm as merry as possible and looking forward to going about
Wellingsford with a dog and string."

"You're a brave chap, Boyce," I said.

He laughed again. "You're anticipating. Do you remember what I said
when you asked me what I should do if I won all the pots I set my heart
on and came through alive? I said I should begin to try to be a brave
man. God! It's a tough proposition. But it's something to live for,
anyway."

I asked him how it happened.

"I got sick," he replied, "of bearing a charmed life and nothing
happening. The Bosch shell or bullet that could hit me wasn't made. I
could stroll about freely where it was death for anyone else to show
the top of his head. I didn't care. Then suddenly one day things went
wrong. You know what I mean. I nearly let my regiment down. It was
touch and go. And it was touch and go with my career. I just pulled
through, however. I'll tell you all about it one of these days--if
you'll put up with me."

Again the familiar twitch of the lips which looked ghastly below the
bandaged eyes. "No one ever dreamed of the hell I went through. Then I
found I was losing the nerve I had built up all these months. I nearly
went off my head. At last I thought I would put an end to it. It was a
small attack of ours that had failed. The men poured back over the
parapet into the trench, leaving heaven knows how many dead and wounded
outside. I'm not superstitious and I don't believe in premonitions and
warnings, and so forth; but in cases of waiting like mine a man
suddenly gets to know that his hour has come.... I got in six wounded.
Two men wer