.
I never should have thought there would have been room enough on a
little man like me."

Clerambault found out at last that he had received about a score of
wounds; seventeen, to be exact. He had been literally sprinkled--he
called it "interlarded"--with shrapnel.

"Wounded in seventeen places!" cried Clerambault.

"I have only a dozen left," said the man.

"Did they cure the others?"

"No, they cut my legs off." Clerambault was so shocked that he almost
forgot the object of his visit. Great Heaven! What agonies! Our
sufferings, in comparison, are a drop in the ocean.... He put his
hand over the rough one, and pressed it. The calm grey eyes took in
Clerambault from his feet to the crape on his hat.

"You have lost someone?"

"Yes," said Clerambault, pulling himself together, "you must have
known Sergeant Clerambault?"

"Surely," said the man, "I knew him."

"He was my son."

The grey eyes softened.

"Ah, Sir! I _am_ sorry for you. I should think I did know him, poor
little chap! We were together for nearly a year, and a year like that
counts, I can tell you! Day after day, we were like moles burrowing in
the same hole.... We had our share of trouble."

"Did he suffer much?"

"Well, Sir, it _was_ pretty bad sometimes; hard on the boy, just at
the first. You see he wasn't used to it, like us."

"You come from the country?"

"I was labourer on a farm. You have to live with the beasts, and you
get to be like 'em. But it is the truth I tell you now, Sir, that men
do treat each other worse than the beasts. 'Be kind to the animals.'
That was on a notice a joker stuck up in our trench.... But what
isn't good enough for them is good enough for us. All right; I'm not
kicking. Things are like that. We have to take it as it comes. But
you could see that the little Sergeant had never been up against it
before; the rain and the mud, and the meanness; the dirt worst of all,
everything that you touch, your food, your skin, full of vermin.... He
came close to crying, I could see, once or twice, when he was new to
it. I wouldn't let on that I noticed, for the boy was proud, didn't
want any help, but I would jolly him, try to cheer him up, lend him
a hand sometimes; he was glad to get it. You see you have to get
together. But before long he could stick it out as well as anybody;
then it was his turn to help me. I never heard him squeal, and we had
gay times together--must have a joke now and then, no matter what
ha