he day was crisp and snappy, with
a light powdering of snow underfoot and a blue tang and sparkle in the
air. Dunny accompanied me in the taxicab, but was less talkative than
usual. Indeed, he spoke only two or three times between the hotel and
the pier.

"I say, Dev," was his first contribution to the conversation,
"d' you remember it was at a dock that you and I first met? It was
night, blacker than Tophet, and raining, and you came ashore wet as a
rag. You were the lonesomest, chilliest, most forlorn little tike I ever
saw; but, by the eternal, you were trying not to cry!"

"Lonesome? I rather think so!" I echoed with conviction. "Wynne and his
wife brought me over; he played poker all the way, and she read novels
in her berth. And I heard every one say that I was an orphan, and it was
very, very sad. Well, I was never lonely after that, Dunny." My hand met
his half-way.

The next time that he broke silence was upon the ferry, when he urged on
me a fat wallet stuffed with plutocratic-looking notes.

"In case anything should happen," ran his muttered explanation. I have
never needed Dunny's money,--his affection is another matter,--but he
can spare it, and this time I took it because I saw he wanted me to.

As we approached the Jersey City piers, he seemed to shrink and grow
tired, to take on a good ten years beyond his hale and hearty age. With
every glance I stole at him a lump in my throat grew bigger, and in the
end, bending forward, I laid a hand on his knee.

"Look here, Dunny," I demanded, not looking at him, "do you mean half
of what you were saying last evening--or the hundredth part? After all,
there'll be a chance to fight here before we're many months older. If
you just say the word, old fellow, I'll be with you to-night--and hang
the trip!"

But Dunny, though he wrung my hand gratefully and choked and glared out
of the window, would hear of no such arrangement, repudiated it, indeed,
with scorn.

"No, my boy," he declared. "I don't say it for a minute. I like your
going. I wouldn't give a tinker's dam for you, whatever that is, if you
didn't want to do something for those fellows over there. I won't even
say to be careful, for you can't if you do your duty--only, don't you be
too all-fired foolhardy, even for war medals, Dev."

"Oh, I was born to be hanged, not shot," I assured him, almost
prophetically. "I'll take care of myself, and I'll write you now and
then--"

"No, you won't!" he snorte