, but I hear a lot of
surgeon talk. It's the shock--in a man of his age. The wound's
clean, so far--not a thread in it, I hear. Shock--and
gangrene--that's what we look out for. . . . What's the news down
by the river?"

"I don't know," said Berkley.

"Don't you know if you got licked?"

"I don't think we did. You'd hear the firing out here much
plainer."

"You're the 8th Cavalry, ain't you?"

"Yes."

"They say you got cut up."

"Some."

"And how about the Zouaves?"

"Oh, they're there yet," said Berkley listlessly. Fatigue was
overpowering him; he was aware, presently, that a negro, carrying a
lantern, was guiding his stumbling steps into a small building
where, amid piles of boxes, an army cot stood covered by a blanket.
Berkley gave him a crumpled mess of paper money, and he almost
expired.

Later the same negro rolled a wooden tub into the room, half filled
it with steaming water, and stood in profound admiration of his
work, grinning at Berkley.

"Is you-all gwine bresh up, suh?" he inquired.

Berkley straightened his shoulders with an effort, unbuckled his
belt, and slowly began to take off his wet uniform.

The negro aided him respectfully; that wet wad of dollars had done
its work profoundly.

"Yo' is de adjetant ob dis here Gin'ral ob de Lancers, suh? De po'
ole Gin'ral! He done git shot dreffle bad, suh. . . . Jess you
lay on de flo', suh, t'will I gits yo' boots off'n yo' laigs! Dar!
Now jess set down in de tub, suh. I gwine scrub you wif de
saddle-soap--Lor', Gord-a-mighty! Who done bang you on de haid
dat-a-way?"--scrubbing vigorously with the saddle-soap all the
while. "Spec' you is lame an' so' all over, is you? Now I'se
gwine rub you haid, suh; an' now I'se gwine dry you haid." He
chuckled and rubbed and manipulated, yet became tender as a woman
in drying the clipped hair and the scarred temple. And, before
Berkley was aware of what he was about, the negro lifted him and
laid him on the cot.

"Now," he chuckled, "I'se gwine shave you." And he fished out a
razor from the rear pocket of his striped drill overalls, rubbed
the weapon of his race with a proud thumb, spread more soap over
Berkley's upturned face, and fell deftly to work, wiping off the
accumulated lather on the seat of his own trousers.

Berkley remembered seeing him do it twice; then remembered no more.
A blessed sense of rest soothed every bone; in the heavenly
stillness and surcease from noise he d