"Lieutenant Harry G. Horton to be gazetted captain—me!" put in Jim, with some pride. "Not you."
A brief silence in which Harry rubbed his scrawny beard with his long fingers.
"That might be difficult to prove to my Company captain," he said at last.
"You forget my wounds," laughed Jim. "Oh, they're my wounds all right." And then, with a shrug, "You see, Harry, it won't work. You're helpless. If I chose to keep on the job, you'd be left out in the cold."
"You won't dare——"
"I don't know what I'd dare. It depends on you."
"What do you mean?" broke in Harry with some spirit. "I couldn't be any worse off than I am now, even if I told the truth."
Jim laughed. "I tried to tell in the hospital and they thought I was bug-house. Try it if you like."
Harry frowned and reached for another cigarette.
And then after awhile, "Well—what do you want me to do?"