ther; I wasn't caring for anything else."

There was deep silence in the room again and a log of the fire crackled
and fell apart and blazed up impersonally; the pleasant sound jarred
not at all the tense, human atmosphere.

"And he----! Uncle Bill," went on the throbbing voice, "through the
devilish pain he was radiant. He was, thank God! I wanted to hold up a
doctor and get dope to quiet him--and he wouldn't.

"'It might make me unconscious,' he objected. 'Would I lose a minute of
you? Not if I know it! This is the happiest hour I've had for twenty
years.'

"He told me, a bit at a time, about things. First how he'd arranged so
that even my mother thought him dead. Then the bald facts of his
downfall. He hated to tell that.

"'Took money,' he said. 'Very unjustifiable. But I ought to have had
plenty--life's most unreasonable. Then--I couldn't face--discovery--hate,
unpleasantness.' He shuddered. 'Might have been--jailed.' It was
shaking him so I tried to stop him, but he pointed to his coat and
laughed--Uncle Bill, a pitiful laugh. It tore me. 'John Donaldson's
making a good getaway,' he labored out. 'Must tell everything. I'll
finish--clean. To--my son. Honor of--the uniform.' He was getting
exhausted. 'That's all,' he ended, 'Dishonor.'

"And I flung at him: 'No--no. It's covered over--wiped out--with
service and honor. You're dying for the flag, father--father!' I
whispered with my arms around him and crying like a child with a
feeling I'd never known before. 'Father, father!' I whispered, and he
lifted a hand and patted my head.

"'That sounds nice,' he said. Suddenly he looked amused. His nerve all
through was the bulliest thing you ever saw, Uncle Bill. Not a whimper.
'You thought I was Italian,' he brought out. 'Years ago, this morning.
But--I'm not. American, sir--I heard the call--the one clear call.
American.'

"Then he closed his eyes and his breathing was so easy that I thought
he might sleep, and live hours, maybe. I loosened his fingers and
lifted his head on my coat that I'd folded for a pillow, for I thought
I'd go outside and find Joe Barron and get him to take the bus down
when the jam held up so I could start. Before I started, I bent over
again and he opened his eyes, and I said very distinctly: 'I want you
to know that I'll be prouder all my life than words can say that I've
had you for a father,' and he brought out a long, perfectly contented
sigh, and seemed to drop off.

"I began to