He turned to his motor car. “I won't forget, sir,” he said to Barry. “Oh, I'll be sure to tell her,” he added with a significant smile.
As Barry was mounting his horse, the strains of the battalion band were heard floating down the street. He drew up his horse beside the entrance and waited. Down the winding hill they came, tall, lean, hard-looking men, striding with the free, easy swing of the men of the foothills. Barry felt his heart fill with pride in his comrades.
“By Jove,” he said to himself, “the boys are all right.”
“Fine body of men, sir,” said the sergeant, who with his comrades had gathered about the gateway.
“Not too bad, eh, sergeant?” said Barry, with modest pride.
“Sir,” said the sergeant in a low voice, “the young lady is up at the window to your left.”
“Sergeant, you're a brick! Thank you,” said Barry. He turned in his saddle, and saw above him a window filled with smiling nurses looking down at the marching column, and among them his friend of the night before. Her face was turned away from him, and her eyes were upon the column, eagerly searching the ranks of the marching men.
“Sergeant,” said Barry, “your Commanding Officer is a very busy man, and has a great many things to occupy his attention. Don't you think it is quite possible that that message of mine might escape his memory, and don't you think it would be really more satisfactory if I could deliver that message in person?”
The sergeant tilted his hat over one eye, and scratched his head.
“Well, sir, the Commanding Officer does 'ave a lot of things to think about, and though he doesn't often forget, he might. Besides, I really think the young lady would like to know just how the coffee went.”