She was right, and he did, making great jumps toward recovery when he once got started. The time came when she let him talk and Zaidos told her all about everything. He even told her how hard he had been and how long it had taken him to forgive Velo.
So the days went on smoothly. Zaidos did not know how many; but one morning there awoke in him a great longing for his adopted land. And that happened to be the very morning when he heard something that might have made him very unhappy, but did not.
The doctor came along.
“What are you going to do with yourself when we discharge you, young man?” he demanded.
“I suppose I’ll have to go back on the field,” Zaidos replied.
“Don’t you want to?” asked the doctor.
“I can’t really say I do,” said Zaidos regretfully. “You see I’ve never had the chance to fight. I was lame when they put me at the Hospital Corps work. At least my broken leg was tender. Now it’s shot up, and I won’t be good for anything else but Red Cross jobs.”
“I may as well tell you,” said the doctor. “You will always be a little lame, Zaidos. Not much, understand, but enough to bar you from any work here. I’m sorry, son. We did our best, but that shin bone didn’t heal right. You have been given your ‘honorable discharge.’”
For a little Zaidos was silent. No more running; no more jumping. It was a little hard, but he thought of the wounds of others, and was ashamed.
“Will I have to walk with a cane, doctor?” he asked.