d nor
Gaspard were seriously disposed, and both fought shy of such matters.

"Well, it's very kind of you to come an' cheer me up, lads," said Hardy
at last; "and I hope I may live to do the same for you, if either of you
ever gets knocked over. Now, I want each of you to do me a favour.
Will you promise?"

"Of course we will," said Gaspard quickly.

"If we can," said the more cautious Scot.

"Well, then, Gaspard, will you sing me a song? I think it would do me
good."

"With the greatest pleasure," answered the soldier; "but," he added,
looking round doubtfully, "I don't know how they might like it here."

"They'll not object; besides, you can sing low. You've got the knack of
singin' soft--better than any man I ever heard."

"Well, what shall it be?" returned the gratified Gaspard.

"One of Sankey's hymns," said the sergeant, with the remotest semblance
of a twinkle in his eye, as he took a small hymn-book from under his
pillow and gave it to his friend.

Gaspard did not seem to relish the idea of singing hymns, but he had
often heard the Blue Lights sing them, and could not plead ignorance of
the tunes; besides, being a man of his word, he would not refuse to
fulfil his promise.

"Sing Number 68, `Shall we gather at the river?' I'm very fond of that
hymn."

In a sweet, soft, mellow voice, that charmed all who were within
hearing, Gaspard began the hymn, and when he had finished there was
heard more than one "Amen" and "Thank God" from the neighbouring beds.

"Yes, comrades, we shall gather there," said the sergeant, after a brief
pause, "for the same Almighty Saviour who saved _me_ died for _you_ as
well. I ain't used to wettin' my cheeks, as _you_ know, lads, but I
s'pose my wound has weakened me a bit! Now Sutherland, the favour I
have to ask of--"

"If ye're thinkin' o' askin' me to pray," broke in the alarmed Scotsman,
"ye may save your breath. When I promised, I said, `if I _can_.' Noo,
I can _not_ pray, an' it's nae use askin' me to try. Whatever I may
come to in this warld, I'll no be a heepycrit for ony leevin' man."

"Quite right, Sutherland--quite right. I had no intention of asking you
to pray," replied Hardy, with a faint smile. "What I want you to do is
to draw out my will for me."

"Oh! I'm quite willin' to do that," returned the relieved Scot.

"You see," continued the sergeant, "one never knows what may be the
result of a bad wound in a climate like this, and if it pleas