"Promotion," she laughed; "but you won't get it if you have a relapse."
"I'm not going to have a relapse. I'm all right. Better every day, and I'd like you to understand that I know exactly what I'm saying. I took another man's job. He was—was sick and I took his place. I'm not Lieutenant Horton, nurse."
"You may be whatever you please, if you'll only go to sleep."
"Bless your heart! That isn't going to change my identity."
His positiveness rather startled her and made her pause and stare at him soberly. But in a moment her lips curved into a smile, rather tender and sympathetic. It wouldn't do to let this illusion grow, so gently she said: "Your authenticity is well vouched for. The report of your company Captain—the Sergeant-Major of your battalion. You see, you've become rather a famous person in the —th. I've seen some of your papers, they're all quite regular. Even your identification disk. It's here in the drawer with some other things that were in your pockets, so please relax and sleep again, won't you? I mustn't talk to you. It's contrary to orders."
"But nurse——"
She patted him gently on the arm, put a warning finger to her lips, and silently stole away. His gaze followed her the length of the room until she disappeared through the door when he sank back on his pillows with a groan.
"Nutty!" he muttered to himself; "wonder if I am." He touched the bandage and realized that his head was beginning to throb again. "No, I'm Jim Horton all right, there's no doubt about that, but how I'm going to make these seraphic idiots believe it is more than I can see. That Sergeant! And the men.... By George! And the Sergeant-Major. Probably looked me over at the dressing station. Oh, Lord, what a mess!"
Things began whirling around and Jim Horton closed his eyes; he wasn't quite as strong as he thought he was, and after a while he slept again.
Downstairs in the Major's office two surgeons and the nurse in charge were discussing the case.