He saw himself chatting with Daly—heard the fire-clang—saw Bill run up the ladder—beheld him waver, totter and fall—saw his limp body in the net—heard the afflicted mother speak of her Willie—her good boy Willie, whom the boys called "Bull." And then there was Father Boone, always in the right place, and doing the proper thing, cool, firm, kind, commanding. And this was the man he was on the outs with. Was it more likely that a boy like himself would be wrong or Father Boone?
"I'm a boob," he accused himself. "I should have gone to him at the start. Even if he were cross—most likely he'd heard there was a row, and I was in it. Then, of course, he'd feel hurt that I hadn't shown him more confidence. But great guns! I did go up to make a clean breast of it, and got 'cold feet'. But that's not his fault. That's how the whole blame thing began. Gosh, I wish I had some of Bill Daly's sand!"
He had begun to feel a little drowsy. The clock struck one and he was murmuring "a little . . . of . . . Bill . . . Daly's . . . 'sand' . . . Bill . . . Daly's . . . sand . . . sand . . . . sand . . . . . . . sand!" And off he fell into the land of nod.
Chapter III
Comrades
It was full daylight when Bill Daly opened his eyes the next morning. On all sides of him were beds. Nurses and doctors were walking noiselessly up and down the ward. He did not know what to make of it. He had never been in a hospital before, even as a visitor. He had to make an effort to collect his thoughts.
O yes! the fire. That shaky ladder. The woman and the child at the window crying for help. His quick ascent up the ladder. The adjustment—a sudden sensation of dizziness—and then! Yes, he must have fallen.
Just then he moved his arm a bit, and a moan issued from his distorted mouth. He knew now—who he was and what had happened. He changed the position of his head and a groan escaped him. He moved his body ever so little, and pain shot all through it. "Oh, Oh, Oh," he groaned. After that, for a moment, he lay as quiet as possible. "O, I'm a girl, all right," he told himself. "What am I groaning about? I'll bet Mulvy would take his medicine. That's 'some' boy, Mulvy. Never grunted once, and I hit him all over. O for a little of his 'sand.'"