“‘Who is Captain Kodak?’ asked General Wheeler.”
“Another word—wait!” pleaded the sick man, his face flushing for the moment. Then he whispered again to Allan. “This is the last now. You can see that—they wouldn’t allow this if there was any chance for me. I led a bad life, my boy. It was a failure. But I tried to be a good soldier. Slip your hand under here, and say, ‘Good-by, Hiram Bain.’”
Allan found the man’s hot hand and repeated, huskily, “Good-by, Hiram Bain.”
The standing soldier’s hand was on his shoulder again, and he rose up.
The Ghost’s eyes seemed to be pleading for another word. Allan bent over.
“You haven’t any grudge against me?”
“No,” said Allan, “I haven’t. I want you to get well, and to keep on—beginning over.”
The man shook his head, then nodded gratefully to Allan, as if the good wish was all he wanted just then.
The two men now lifted the stretcher and moved away, Allan and McConnell staring after them until they had disappeared into one of the hospital tents.
This was the last Allan saw of the Ghost. On the following day the Ghost passed away and was buried with other soldiers who had come home to die.