"I know it—thank God!"
If poor little G. W. had not been so weak he would have sprung up; he tried to, but fell limply back.
"G. W., my child," said the Colonel, moving a little nearer, "if you had not disobeyed and come after me I would not have been here. You took your orders from some one higher in command, G. W. We're going home soon, going home together. Do you know what I am saying, G. W.? Just as soon as we can travel we are going up North together to the Boy and his Mother!"
Things happened for dear little G. W. in snatches after that. Pain-filled pauses and unconscious lapses and short, sudden, sharp throbs of happiness, made up life.
The Colonel gained his strength far sooner than G. W. He could have travelled, but he would not leave his little comrade. "I'll stay by the little chap until the end, or I'll take him home with me," he said to the doctor who urged his departure. "I'll never desert him."
The "end" did not come to G. W., however. All at once he began to mend. White and weak, his eyes too large for his face, for fever had worn him to a shadow, Colonel Austin sat beside his bed retelling the old hero-stories, while G. W. smiled with closed eyes. Sometimes the boy roused and asked a series of questions.
"When is we goin' home, Colonel?"
"On the next transport, comrade."
"I s'pose we has ter live in jes a house when we goes home?" sighed the boy.
"Why, G. W., a house isn't a bad thing—do you think so?"