“Oh yes, there is, sir,” whimpered the man. “It’s all right, sir. I’m the chap: look at me.”
“Stop a moment,” said Lennox quickly; “aren’t you one of the men who have been in the infirmary?”
“Yes, sir. This is the first time I’ve been on duty since.”
“What was the matter with you?”
“Doctor said it was all on account of weakness, sir, but that I should be better back in the fresh air—in the ranks.”
“And you feel weak now?”
“Yes, sir; horrid. I’m ashamed of myself for being such a coward. But I know now.”
“Well, what do you know?” asked Lennox, more for the sake of calming the man than from curiosity.
“I thought I was going to get all right again and see the war through, if I didn’t get an unlucky ball; but it’s all over now. I’ve seen ’em, and it’s a fetch.”
“A what?” cried Dickenson, laughing.