“Oh, Mac, you are my oldest, my best friend in the battalion, in all the world,” said Barry.
“Oh, I just love to hear you say that, boy. Do you know I wanted to tell you how I felt about that time on the boat, you remember?” Barry nodded. “Barry, tell me, honest Injun, did I make good as a soldier?”
“The best ever,” said Barry. “They all say so, officers and men. I heard the colonel say so the other day.”
Again the smile came.
“Barry, it was you that done that for me. You showed me, and you done it so nice. I never forgot that, and I always wanted to tell you how I felt about it. Barry, you done a lot for me.”
“Oh, Mac, don't talk like that,” said Barry, trying to keep his voice steady. “I did so little and I wanted to do so much.”
“Say, I like to hear you. I'd like to stay a little longer just to be with you, Barry. I've watched you just like you was my own boy, and I've been awful proud of you, but I didn't like to say so.”
The uncovering of the great love of this simple, humble hearted man broke down Barry's self-control. He made no effort to check his falling tears.
“I'm getting—kind of weak, Barry,” whispered McCuaig. “I guess I won't be long, mebbe.”
His words recalled Barry's nerve.