"Yes, I kept it rolled up in flannel and newspapers. Say, I got a little more, Sergeant."
"How?"
"The doctors or some fellers had a tub of lemonade outside, a little bit further down. I chipped off a bit."
Spruce ground his teeth, but he made no comment. All he said was, "You go git Captain Hale and report. Tell the captain I got his folks' address. They'll want him sent home. They're rich folks and they were coming on; guess they're on the way now. Be quiet!"
The soldier was looking at the placid face. A sob choked him. "He said, 'Thank you,' every time I gave him anything," he gulped. "God! it's murder to put fools like me at nursing; and the country full of women that know how and want to come!"
"S-s-s! 'Tain't no good talking. You done your best. Go and report."
As the wretched soldier lumbered off, Spruce set his teeth on an ugly oath.
"I ought to have stayed, maybe," he thought, "but I've been doing with so little sleep, my head was feeling dirty queer; and the doctor sent me. Collapse, of course; temperature ran down to normal, and poor Tooley didn't notice, and him too weak to talk! Well, I hope I git the G boys through, that's all I ask!"
He went over to the next cot, where lay the nearest of the G boys, greeting him cheerily. "Hello, Dick?"
Dick was a handsome young specter, just beginning to turn the corner in a bad case of typhoid fever. His blue eyes lighted at Spruce's voice; and he sent a smile back at Spruce's smile. "Did you get some sleep?" said he. "What's that you have in your hand?"