“I can’t see just how it is,” he said. “Are you sure Helen is here?”
“Yes, she is here, I promise you,” said Zaidos. “And you want to brace up for her sake. For her sake, do you understand? Her heart is about broken. Don’t you go and die now after all the trouble you have made.”
Hazelden gave Zaidos a straight look.
“What are you thinking of?” he said in his weak whisper. “You don’t suppose I could die now, do you?”
“Here’s my kit,” said Zaidos, as Velo came hurrying up.
He fastened the artery rudely but well, and lifting off the unconscious soldier, they carefully placed Hazelden on the stretcher. Many, many times that day Zaidos had been thankful for his steel muscles and man’s stature, and now he was more thankful than ever. With all the care possible they carried their burden over the rough, uneven ground back to the First Aid Station.
Zaidos’ heart sang within him. The impossible had happened. He was bringing Tony Hazelden back to the girl who loved him, and Hazelden loved her. Zaidos knew that, not only because of the picture Tony carried, but because no one could have seen Hazelden’s face when he spoke Helen’s name and not know that his heart was breaking for her. Zaidos knew that Hazelden’s life hung on the merest thread, but he stoutly believed that his love for Helen would keep him alive until he reached her, at least, and after that Zaidos was willing to trust Helen to do the rest. Zaidos watched his helpless burden with anxiety as they approached the shelter. When they arrived he gave the word to Velo and they gently lowered the stretcher to the ground.
“Stay here a minute,” he ordered Velo, and slid down into the underground room. There was a lull in the dug-out as all the men had for the minute been cared for and sent back to the rear, which always is done as much as possible in the darkness.
The doctor and his aids, resting on the hard planks that served as seats, sat upright against the dirt wall, sound asleep. Nurse Helen stood at the white table cleaning the instruments. Zaidos scarcely recognized her. She was haggard and worn as a woman old in years. Color, energy, life itself seemed to have been drained out of her in the terrible ordeal of the past day. Zaidos hesitated. He was filled with fears all at once. It seemed so like planning the meeting of a couple of ghosts. Hazelden, unconscious and at the point of death, and Helen fagged out, worn, and looking like an old woman.
He went to her, tenderly laying a stained hand on hers.