"Advance, friend, and give the countersign," said the same voice.
"Old Gory!" cried the doctor, with most unmilitary emphasis, and he opened the door and they entered.
Cleary saw what seemed to be the shadow of Sam, pale, haggard, and emaciated, sitting in a shabby undress uniform before a large deal table. Upon the table was a most elaborate arrangement of books and blocks of wood, apparently representing fortifications, which were manned by a dilapidated set of lead soldiers—the earliest treasures of Sam's boyhood, which had been sent to him from home at his request. Sam did not lift his eyes from the table, and moved the men about with his hand as if he were playing a game of chess.
"Here is a friend of yours to see you, Captain," said the doctor.
Sam slowly raised his head and looked at Cleary for some time without recognizing him. Gradually a faint smile made its appearance.
"I know you," he said in the same strained voice. "I know you. You're——"
"Cleary," said Cleary.
"Cleary? Cleary? Let me see. Why, to be sure, you're Cleary." And he rose from his chair unsteadily and took the hand that Cleary offered him.
"How are you, old man? I'm so glad to see you again," said Cleary.
"And so am I," said Sam, who now seemed to be almost his old self again. "Sit down."