"Throwing out a strong picket, I made quick preparations for the night. Within an hour the remainder of the command had struggled in, the Colonel's wife and children were housed in the ambulance, supper was cooked, then the stillness and the grandeur of an Arizona night was upon that blood-stained bivouac.
"Reynolds, his head bandaged and the long cut in his side dressed and stitched, slept fitfully, muttering incoherently of unknown people and places. For Sammy, nothing could be done; his hurt was mortal, and within a few hours the great Silence, the Nirvana of his faith, would be his. Presently the moon came swinging up into the cloudless, starlit sky, driving back the shadows, toning the rough outlines of the rocks, and making beautiful the rugged amphitheatre about the spring. By ten o'clock it was as light as at early dawn, while the surgeon and I sat beside the now conscious boy as he lay upon the rough blanket bed.
"'Sammy,' I said, as I took his hand, 'you are badly wounded and it may be that you will not again return to your people. Will you tell me of your home, and will you give me some message for those who are dear to you?"
"There was wondrous strength in the grip he gave my hand, and his voice was steady as, in halting, uncertain English, he told me of his birthplace in far-away Japan, his beautiful Japan that he would never see again; of his father, the 'grand man' who had sent him out into the world that he might learn the ways of the 'Merican Soldier,' and thus be of greater service to his country in some day of need. He told us of the great palace upon a hill, which had been his home, and spoke reverently of the little mother who waited for his return. He was most anxious that his father should know he had fallen in battle, and that many men had felt his steel before he went down.
"'Me Samurai,' he added, simply; 'it is good that Samurai should die in those fight.'
"Reynolds, unconscious and feverishly moaning, lay a few feet distant, and Sammy asked that he be moved so that he might lie beside his friend. Just beside his bed the moonlight showed a tiny desert flower, a flower not born to blush unseen, but destined, thank God, to brighten the dying hour of that home-hungry little Japanese. He plucked the flower, and lifting it to his lips, he said, 'Many flowers in my countree.' After this he lay very still, gazing steadily up into the limitless, jewelled space, as if trying to fathom the eternal mystery of life and death. It was nearly midnight when I noticed that his hands were growing cold, and found that the respiration was growing very laboured. The surgeon, after feeling the pulse, beckoned me aside to whisper that the hour was come.
"As we bent over him, his eyes sought mine and he said, haltingly, 'Captaine and that doctor man are been verre good to Sammy.' Turning his head, he noticed that the blanket had fallen away from his comrade's shoulder; with great effort he reached out, and pulling the blanket in place, patted the shoulder lovingly, and laid the desert flower upon Reynolds' breast. 'Him my friend,' he whispered; 'him Samurai, too; him 'Merican Samurai.' For a few minutes his pulse fluttered intermittently, when I saw that his lips were moving, and bending low, I caught the faintly murmured words, 'Nippon! Nippon! Samurai!' Then the brave heart was still forever, and we knew that a gallant soul had passed.
"So died a Samurai; giving his young life in defense of the helpless ones of an alien people, a people who regarded him and his kind as pagans. Surely, in the final muster, the Great Commander, making no distinction as to race or creed, will reward soldiers such as he.
"It was a sad returning to the home camp. Reynolds, raving in delirium, was conveyed slowly in the ambulance, and it was not until after poor Sammy had been buried that he regained consciousness. A fortnight later he emerged from the hospital, gaunt and haggard, with deep lines on his brow from this last sorrow, for he had loved his little comrade with all the strength of his great nature.
"The men came in a body to request that Sammy should be given a soldier's funeral. The Colonel, who had arrived, and had heard how the boy died, cried like a child as he told the men they should have their wish.