He walked past a silent crowd, a crowd that wanted to cheer, but did not dare, but stood, without a smile as he went by. To them all he waved a hand. Just as he was leaving the steps a flashlight flared forth, the sharp report of the powder startling everybody.
Capt. A. O. Girard.
"Ah, shot again," said the colonel, without a tremor.
Before climbing into the ambulance he turned to the newspaper men who had come out to see him off.
"I want to see you newspaper men at the hospital at 3 o'clock. I want all the old guard there." Then he started up the steps of the automobile conveyance with a firm step and tried to seat himself firmly on the cushion. But he had counted on more strength than he possessed. With a smothered exclamation he sank back among them, his head dropping and his figure one of pathetic helplessness.
At 3 o'clock he welcomed the newspaper men sitting up in bed with his massive chest hidden beneath an undershirt.
"I came away in too big a hurry to get my pajamas," he explained, apologetically.
"Here they are, bless their hearts. They never desert me," the colonel cried, as the visitors were ushered in.