been dreaming."

I questioned him again about his wound, and began feeling his hair.
"It's not there," he said. "Guess I got it all over my hands. They
got me this time. Shrapnel, in the body. Don't waste time on me.
Some other fellow may have a chance."

I found, with a little examination, that the case was as bad as he
supposed. Fortunately, the wound had induced a local paralysis, and he
was not suffering to any great degree. I placed my hand in his and
felt his grip tighten on it.

"I'm going to stay till it's over, Dave. We'll see it out together."

"That's decent," he answered, and then was still for quite a time.

"I've often wondered what was on the other side," he said at length.
"I shall know presently."

"You are not afraid?" I whispered.

"No. Only sort of--curious. And--reverent. I guess it's
reverent. . . You know I haven't been much on religion. Never seemed
to get the formula. What is the formula? I mean the key--the thing
that gives it all in one word?"

"In one word--sacrifice."

"I walked out of church once because of some doctrine about sacrifice,"
he continued. "I couldn't go it. . . And yet--there may be something
in it. It's sacrifice here, Edith. War is sacrifice. Sacrifice for
other people. It's not all on the surface. There's something deeper
than we know."

"'He that loseth his life shall find it,'" I quoted.

He did not answer, but I could see his lips smiling again. His breath
was more labored. A few drops of rain fell, and some of them spattered
on his face.

Presently he chuckled. It was an eerie sensation, out on that broad
plain of death, alone by the side of this man who was already far into
the shadow,--to hear him chuckle.

"That splash of water--you remember--it made me think of the time we
pulled the old car into the stream, and the harness broke, or
something, and I had to carry you. You remember that, Reenie?" I
could only say "Yes," and press his hand. His mind was back on the
old, old trails.

He became suddenly sober. "And when Brownie was killed," he went on,
"I said it was the innocent thing that got caught. Perhaps I was
right. But perhaps it's best to get caught. Not for the getting
caught, but for the--the compensations. It's the innocent men that are
getting killed. And perhaps it's best. Perhaps there are
compensations worth while."

His voice was weaker, and I had to lean close to catch his words.

"I'm going--out