colonel was a West Point man, though he's been out of the
army ten years, fooling with the millish. I guess they don't need me so
awful bad this week; and these 'ere boys--Oh, damn it all!" He walked
out of the tent. There was a little group about a wagon, at which he
frowned and sighed. "Poor Maxwell!" he said. Then he tossed his head and
stamped his foot. "Oh, damn it all!" said he again, between his teeth.

But his face and manner were back on their old level of good cheer when
he bent over Danvers, half an hour later.

"Sa--y! Dick!"

"Yes, Chris. You come to say good-by! Well, it's good luck to you and
God bless you from every boy here; and we know what you've done for us,
and we won't forget it; and we'll all hurry up to get well and join
you!" Danvers' voice was steady enough now and a pathetic effort at a
cheer came from all the cots.

Spruce lifted his fist and shook it severely. "You shut up! All of you!
You'll raise your temperature! I ain't going, neither. Be quiet. It's
all settled. I've seen captain, and he wants me to stay and see you boys
through; all the G boys. Then we're all going together. I tell you, keep
quiet."

Dick Danvers was keeping quiet enough, for one; he was wiping away the
tears that rolled down his cheeks.

The others in general shared his relief in greater or less measure; but
they were too ill to think much about anything except themselves. In
some way, however, every one in the tent showed to Spruce that he felt
that a sacrifice had been made.

"I know you hated it like the devil, and just stayed for fear some of
your precious chickens would come to mischief if they got from under
your wings, you old hen!" was Dick's tribute; "and I know why you went
into town yesterday when the boys went off. It _is_ rough, Chris, and
that's the truth!"

"Oh, it's only putting things off a bit; the captain told me so
himself," said Spruce, very light and airy. But his heart was sore. The
G boys understood; he wasn't so sure that all the others did understand.
He caught his name on one gossiping group's lips, and was conscious that
they gazed after him curiously. "Wonder if I'm scared that I stayed
home, I guess," he muttered, being a sensitive fellow like all vain men.
"I wish they'd see the things I've been in! Damn 'em!"

The men really were discussing his various Indian experiences and
admiring him in their boyish hearts. But he was unluckily out of
earshot. Unluckily, also, he was not