In the Van; or, The Builders

by John Price-Brown

"You had better not," returned the man. "The doctor says you must sleep before you try to talk again."

"It will only take a minute—I've got to say it now," said Morris.

"Very well," said the Sergeant, bending over him. "Speak low, Captain. Don't say more than you can help."

"It is only about two letters—they are in my wallet, and I want you without fail to send them on. One is directed to Penetang—I intended to forward it from York—but it was in the bottom of my wallet—and in the hurry of leaving I did not do it. The other is one of my own to Halifax. It, too, should have been sent on before we crossed the lake—but the order to march was so sudden that I had not time. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"I might have given them to the Colonel—but I did not want to bother him. Whether I get well or not, I want this off my mind."

"All right, sir. I will have them forwarded by the very first chance. You may depend upon that."

"Thank you, Sergeant."

The Captain pressed his hand and closed his eyes. Soon he was asleep.

The Sergeant, while he decided to carry out his instructions faithfully, thought it singular that so trifling a matter should occupy the attention of so sick a man.