them
the good news, and then back; but my heart sank to its depths again as
soon as I entered Carl's room. The delirium always affected me that way:
to see the vacant stare in his eyes--no look of recognition when I
entered.

The nurse went out that afternoon. "He's doing nicely," was the last
thing she said. She had not been gone half an hour--it was just
two-fifteen--and I was lying on her bed watching Carl, when he called,
"Buddie, I'm going--come hold my hand." O my God--I dashed for him, I
clung to him, I told him he could not, must not go--we needed him too
terribly, we loved him too much to spare him. I felt so sure of it, that
I said: "Why, my love is enough to _keep_ you here!"

He would not let me leave him to call the doctor. I just knelt there
holding both his hands with all my might, talking, talking, telling him
we were not going to let him go. And then, at last, the color came back
into his face, he nodded his head a bit, and said, "I'll stay," very
quietly. Then I was able to rush for the stairs and tell Mrs. Willard to
telephone for the doctor. Three doctors we had that afternoon. They
reported the case as "dangerous, but not absolutely hopeless." His
heart, which had been so wonderful all along, had given out. That very
morning the doctor had said: "I wish my pulse was as strong as that!"
and there he lay--no pulse at all. They did everything: our own doctor
stayed till about ten, then left, with Carl resting fairly easily. He
lived only a block away.

About one-thirty the nurse had me call the doctor again. I could see
things were going wrong. Once Carl started to talk rather loud. I tried
to quiet him and he said: "Twice I've pulled and fought and struggled to
live just for you [one of the times had been during the crisis]. Let me
just talk if I want to. I can't make the fight a third time--I'm so
tired."

Before the doctor could get there, he was dead.

* * * * *

With our beliefs what they were, there was only one thing to be done. We
had never discussed it in detail, but I felt absolutely sure I was
doing as he would have me do. His body was cremated, without any service
whatsoever--nobody present but one of his brothers and a great friend.
The next day the two men scattered his ashes out on the waters of Puget
Sound. I feel it was as he would have had it.

* * * * *

"Out of your welded lives--welded in spirit and in the comr