“Isn't there some way out of this? If I got a substitute—”
“A soldier obeys orders, Captain Dunbar,” said the O. C. gravely.
“Yes, sir, I know, but—”
“And he doesn't say 'but',” continued the O. C. “No, Barry,” he added in a kindly voice, “I have no responsibility or authority in this. I'd be glad to have you come up with us. We are going into the 'big thing' this time, I know, but perhaps it's just as well. You go your way and we'll go ours. I'd like to say this to you, however, my boy, you have been a great help to me with the men.”
His tone was grave but kind, and it sent to Barry's heart a chill of foreboding. “Good-bye, Barry,” he added, shaking hands with him.
“Good-bye, sir. Good luck, sir. May I say, sir,” said Barry, “that you have helped me immensely with my duty.”
“Do you say so, Barry?” said the O. C., a note of surprise in his voice. “I'm delighted to know that.”
“God keep you, sir,” said Barry earnestly.
“Thank you, sir. We are in His keeping, aren't we?” and turning in his saddle, he gave the order to advance.
Barry rode with the column to the very mouth of the communication trench running to Pozieres, dropping into step with each company commander for a time, and leaving each with a cheery word of farewell. At the mouth of the trench, he stood watching the men as they stepped down and out of his sight, giving them a word of good cheer and good luck as they passed, and receiving in return answering smiles and greetings. Then with eyes unseeing, he rode back to camp, heavy of heart, for he knew well that many of these faces he would see no more.