A shout went up from the men who had come through whole, when they saw her. They were wet, covered with mud, aching in every joint and sinew, but they forgot it all in their joyful pride over the fact that the nurse was standing by.
“Gosh durn it, it’s our girl!”
“Stuck fast to the old bat. Whoopee!”
“At-a-boy! Three cheers for the pluckiest girl on the front—our girl!” and a young giant led the cheering that sprang as one yell from those husky throats.
“She’s all right—our girl’s all right—’rah-’rah-’rah!”
Sheila’s own voice was too husky to more than whisper, as she slipped behind the giant, “Tell them my thanks and—good luck.”
“You bet I will.”
From that instant there was no more helplessness in the feelings of Sheila O’Leary. She felt empowered to move mountains, to make new a mangled heap of boys. As she joined the chief she stopped to see how it was with him. His eyes met hers, and in the flash she read there the same fighting faith that was in her own heart. He patted her shoulder.
“Didn’t think you’d funk. Nothing like team-work when you’re up against it. Keeps you believing in the divinity of man, eh?”
And who can tell if at times like these the power of the Nazarene does not pass on to those who go fearlessly forth to minister in the face of death! It would not be so strange if he had passed over innumerable battle-fields and so anointed those who had come to succor that their task was made easier and their burden at least bearable.