diff options
Diffstat (limited to '44185-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 44185-h/44185-h.htm | 6239 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 44185-h/images/i004.jpg | bin | 0 -> 161733 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 44185-h/images/i005.jpg | bin | 0 -> 35122 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 44185-h/images/i035.jpg | bin | 0 -> 149516 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 44185-h/images/i065.jpg | bin | 0 -> 159816 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 44185-h/images/i167.jpg | bin | 0 -> 161821 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 44185-h/images/i259.jpg | bin | 0 -> 179659 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 44185-h/images/iCover.jpg | bin | 0 -> 202459 bytes |
8 files changed, 6239 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/44185-h/44185-h.htm b/44185-h/44185-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f2d9ae --- /dev/null +++ b/44185-h/44185-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6239 @@ + +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fighting Starkleys, by Captain Theodore Goodridge Roberts. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + +h1 { + margin-top: 7%; + text-indent: 0%; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +h2 { + margin-top: 4%; + text-indent: 0%; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +/* paragraphs */ + +p { + margin-top: 3%; + margin-bottom: 3%; + text-align: justify; +} /* general paragraph */ + +p.h1 { + margin-top: 7%; + text-indent: 0%; + text-align: center; + font-size: 300%; + font-weight: bold; +} + +p.cnobmargin { + text-align: center; + margin-bottom: .0%; +} /* centered no bottom margin */ + +p.cnomargins { + text-align: center; + margin-bottom: .0%; + margin-top: .0%; +} /* centered no bottom or top margin */ + +p.cnotmargin { + text-align: center; + margin-top: .0%; +} /* centered no top margin */ + +p.indent { + text-indent: 4%; +} /* indented paragraph */ + +.space-above +{ + margin-top: 3em; +} + +/* horizontal rules */ + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 8%; + margin-bottom: 8%; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +.hr2 +{ + width: 90%; + max-width: 90%; + color: #CCCCCC; + background-color: #FFFFFF; + border: none; + border-bottom: 6px double black; + margin: 8% auto; +} /* horizontal rule for chapter divisions */ + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} + +/* Formatting */ + +.bbox {border: solid 2px; + margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + padding: 6px; +} + +.center { + text-indent: 0%; + text-align: center; +} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +.small {font-size: small;} + +.large {font-size: large;} + +/* Links attributes */ + +a:link { color:#000000; text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 1px dashed #808080;} + +a:visited { color:#25383C; text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 1px dashed #808080;} + +a:hover { color:#008000; text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 1px dashed #808080;} + +a:active { color:#000000; text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 1px dashed #808080;} + +ins {text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 1px dashed #dcdcdc;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + padding: 6px; +} /* without border */ + +img.border{ + border: 1px solid black; + padding: 6px; +} /* with border */ + +.image-center +{ + text-align: center; + margin: 1em auto; +} + +/* Other */ + +span.ralign { + position: absolute; + right: 10%; + top: auto; +} + +div.tnote { + background-color: #CCCCFF; + border-style: dotted; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + padding: 1%; + font-style: normal; + font-size: 90%; + text-align: justify; +} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44185 ***</div> + +<div class="image-center"> +<img class="border" src="images/iCover.jpg" width="459" height="700" alt="cover" title="cover"/> +</div> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<h1>THE FIGHTING STARKLEYS</h1> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="center"><i>STORIES BY</i></p> + +<p class="cnobmargin"><i>Captain</i></p> +<p class="cnotmargin"><i>Theodore Goodridge Roberts</i></p> + +<p class="cnobmargin"><i>Comrades of the Trails</i> <i>$1.50</i></p> +<p class="cnomargins"><i>The Red Feathers</i> <i>1.65</i></p> +<p class="cnomargins"><i>Flying Plover</i> <i>1.35</i></p> +<p class="cnotmargin"><i>The Fighting Starkleys</i> <i>1.65</i></p> + +<p class="cnobmargin"><i>THE PAGE COMPANY</i></p> +<p class="cnotmargin"><i>53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 507px;"> +<a name="i004" id="i004"></a> +<img class="border" src="images/i004.jpg" width="507" height="700" alt="" /> +<div class="caption"> +<p class="center">"HE SAW HIS BOMB BURST BESIDE THE STUMP OF +CHIMNEY." (<i>See page 194</i>)</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="cnobmargin large"><i>The</i> FIGHTING</p> +<p class="cnotmargin large">STARKLEYS</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Or, THE TEST OF COURAGE</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cnobmargin">BY</p> +<p class="cnomargins large"><span class="smcap">Captain</span> THEODORE GOODRIDGE ROBERTS</p> +<p class="cnomargins small">Author of</p> +<p class="cnotmargin small">"Comrades of the Trails," "Red Feathers," "Flying Plover," etc.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cnobmargin small">ILLUSTRATED BY</p> +<p class="cnotmargin small">GEORGE VARIAN</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="image-center"> +<a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a> +<img class="border" src="images/i005.jpg" width="307" height="306" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cnobmargin">BOSTON</p> +<p class="cnomargins">THE PAGE COMPANY</p> +<p class="cnotmargin">MDCCCCXXII</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="cnobmargin"><i>Copyright, 1920</i>,</p> +<p class="cnomargins"><span class="smcap">By Perry Mason Company</span></p> +<p class="cnomargins">—</p> +<p class="cnomargins"><i>Copyright, 1922</i>,</p> +<p class="cnomargins"><span class="smcap">By The Page Company</span></p> +<p class="cnomargins">—</p> +<p class="cnotmargin"><i>All rights reserved</i></p> + +<p class="center">Made in U.S.A.</p> + +<p class="center">First Impression, April, 1922</p> + +<p class="cnobmargin">PRINTED BY C. H. SIMONDS COMPANY</p> +<p class="cnotmargin">BOSTON, MASS., U.S.A.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<p>CHAPTER <span class="ralign">PAGE</span></p> + +<p>I. <span class="smcap">The Call Comes to Beaver Dam</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#chI">1</a></span></p> + +<p>II. <span class="smcap">Jim Hammond Does not Return to Duty</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#chII">29</a></span></p> + +<p>III. <span class="smcap">The Veterans of Other Days</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#chIII">56</a></span></p> + +<p>IV. <span class="smcap">Private Sill Acts</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#chIV">80</a></span></p> + +<p>V. <span class="smcap">Peter's Room Is Again Occupied</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#chV">109</a></span></p> + +<p>VI. <span class="smcap">Dave Hammer Gets His Commission</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#chVI">131</a></span></p> + +<p>VII. <span class="smcap">Peter Writes a Letter</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#chVII">155</a></span></p> + +<p>VIII. <span class="smcap">The 26th "Mops Up"</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#chVIII">178</a></span></p> + +<p>IX. <span class="smcap">Frank Sacobie Objects</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#chIX">203</a></span></p> + +<p>X. <span class="smcap">Dick Obliges His Friend</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#chX">225</a></span></p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<p class="right">PAGE</p> + +<p class="indent">"<span class="smcap">He saw his bomb burst beside the stump of chimney</span>" (<i>See page 194</i>) <span class="ralign"><a href="#i004"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></span></p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">'I can't make you out,' said the sergeant</span>" <span class="ralign"><a href="#i035">23</a></span></p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">'I'm hit, boys!' he said</span>" <span class="ralign"><a href="#i065">50</a></span></p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">'Here's one of them, sir; and there's more coming,' said the man of mud</span>" <span class="ralign"><a href="#i167">150</a></span></p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Standing in the doorway of the compartment, Dick saluted</span>" <span class="ralign"><a href="#i259">240</a></span></p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page1" id="page1"></a>[pg 1]</span></p> + +<p class="h1">The Fighting Starkleys</p> + +<h2><a name="chI" id="chI"></a>CHAPTER I<br /> +<small>THE CALL COMES TO BEAVER DAM</small></h2> + +<p class="indent">BEAVER DAM was a farm; but +long before the day of John Starkley +and his wife, Constance Emma, +who lived there with their five children, the +name had been applied to and accepted by +a whole settlement of farms, a gristmill, a +meetinghouse, a school and a general store. +John Starkley was a farmer, with no other +source of income than his wide fields. +Considering those facts, it is not to be +wondered at that his three boys and two +girls had been bred to an active, early-rising, +robust way of life from their early +childhood.</p> + +<p class="indent">The original human habitation of Beaver +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page2" id="page2"></a>[pg 2]</span> +Dam had been built of pine logs by John's +grandfather, one Maj. Richard Starkley, +and his friend and henchman, Two-Blanket +Sacobie, a Malecite sportsman from the big +river. The present house had been built +only a few years before the major's death, +by his sons, Peter and Richard, and a son +of old Two-Blanket, of hand-hewn timbers, +whipsawn boards and planks and hand-split +shingles. But the older house still +stands solid and true and weather-tight on +its original ground; its lower floor is a tool +house and general lumber room and its upper +floor a granary.</p> + +<p class="indent">Soon after the completion of the new +house the major's son Richard left Beaver +Dam for the town of St. John, where he +found employment with a firm of merchants +trading to London, Spain and the +West Indies. He was sent to Jamaica; and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" id="page3"></a>[pg 3]</span> +from that tropic isle he sent home, at one +time and another, cases of guava jelly and +"hot stuff," a sawfish's saw and half a dozen +letters. From Jamaica he was promoted +to London; and as the years passed, his +letters became less and less frequent until +they at last ceased entirely. So much for +the major's son Richard.</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter stuck to the farm. He was a big, +kind-hearted, quiet fellow, a hard worker, +a great reader of his father's few books. +He married the beautiful daughter of a +Scotchman who had recently settled at +Green Hill—a Scotchman with a red beard, +a pedigree longer and a deal more twisted +than the road to Fredericton, a mastery of +the bagpipes, two hundred acres of wild +land and an empty sporran. Of Peter +Starkley and his beautiful wife, Flora, +came John, who had his father's steadfastness +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" id="page4"></a>[pg 4]</span> +and his mother's fire. He went farther +afield for his wife than his father had gone—out +to the big river, St. John, and down +it many miles to the sleepy old village and +elm-shaded meadows of Gagetown. It +was a long way for a busy young farmer to +go courting; but Constance Emma Garden +was worth a thousand longer journeys.</p> + +<p class="indent">When Henry, the oldest of the five +Starkley children, went to college to study +civil engineering, sixteen-year-old Peter, +fourteen-year-old Flora, twelve-year-old +Dick and eight-year-old Emma were at +home. Peter, who was done with school, +did a man's work on the farm; he owned a +sorrel mare with a reputation as a trotter, +contemplated spending the next winter in +the lumber woods and planned agriculture +activities on a scale and of a kind to astonish +his father.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" id="page5"></a>[pg 5]</span> +On a Saturday morning in June Dick +and Flora, who were chums, got up even +earlier than usual. They breakfasted by +themselves in the summer kitchen of the +silent house, dug earthworms in the rich +brown loam of the garden and, taking their +fishing rods from behind the door of the +tool house, set out hurriedly for Frying +Pan River. When they were halfway to +the secluded stream they overtook Frank +Sacobie, the great-grandson of Two-Blanket +Sacobie, who had helped Maj. Richard +Starkley build his house.</p> + +<p class="indent">The young Malecite's black eyes lighted +pleasantly at sight of his friends, but his +lips remained unsmiling. He was a very +thin, small-boned, long-legged boy of thirteen, +clothed in a checked cotton shirt and +the cut-down trousers of an older Sacobie. +He did not wear a hat. His straight black +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" id="page6"></a>[pg 6]</span> +hair lay in a fringe just above his eyebrows.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Didn't you bring any worms?" asked +Flora.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Nope," said Frank.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Or any luncheon?" asked Dick.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Nope," said Frank. "You two always +fetch plenty worms and plenty grub."</p> + +<p class="indent">He led the way along a lumbermen's +winter road, and at last they reached the +Frying Pan. Baiting their hooks, they +fell to fishing.</p> + +<p class="indent">The trout were plentiful in the Frying +Pan; they bit, they yanked, they pulled. +The three young fishers heaved them ashore +by main force and awkwardness—as folk +say round Beaver Dam—and by noon the +three had as many fish as they could comfortably +carry. So, winding up their lines, +they washed their hands and sat down in +a sunny place to lunch. All were wet, for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" id="page7"></a>[pg 7]</span> +all had fallen into the river more than once. +Dick had his left hand in a bandage by that +time; he had embedded a hook in the fleshy +part of it and had dug it out with his jack-knife.</p> + +<p class="indent">"That's nothing! Just a scratch!" he +said in the best offhand military manner. +"My great-grandfather once had a Russian +bayonet put clean through his shoulder."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Guess my great-gran'father did some +fightin', too," remarked Frank Sacobie. +"He was a big chief on the big river."</p> + +<p class="indent">"No, he didn't," said Dick. "He was a +chief, all right; but there wasn't any fighting +on the river in his day. He was Two-Blanket +Sacobie. I've read all about him +in my great-grandfather's diary."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Don't mean him," said Frank. "I +mean Two-Blanket's father's father's +father. His name was just Sacobie, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" id="page8"></a>[pg 8]</span> +his mark was a red canoe. He fought the +English and the Mohawks. All the Malecites +on the big river were his people, and +he was very good friend to the big French +governors. The King of France sent him +a big medal. My gran'mother told me all +about it once. She said how Two-Blanket +got his name because he sold that medal to +a white man on the Oromocto for two blankets; +and that was a long time ago—way +back before your great-gran'father ever +come to this country. I tell you, if I want +to be a soldier, I bet I would make as good +a soldier as Dick."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Bet you wouldn't," retorted Dick.</p> + +<p class="indent">"All right. I'm goin' to be a soldier—and +you'll see. I'm going into the militia +as soon as I'm old enough."</p> + +<p class="indent">"So'm I."</p> + +<p class="indent">Flora laughed. "Who will you fight +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" id="page9"></a>[pg 9]</span> +with you when you are in the militia?" she +asked.</p> + +<p class="indent">The boys exchanged embarrassed glances.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I guess the militia could fight all right +if it had to," said Dick.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Of course it could," said Frank.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="indent">For four years after the conversation +that took place on the bank of Frying Pan +River Flora and Dick and the rest of the +Starkley family except Henry lived on in +the quiet way of the folk at Beaver Dam. +The younger children continued to go daily +to school at the Crossroads, to take part +in the lighter tasks of farm and house, to +play and fish and argue and dream great +things of the future.</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter spent each winter in the lumber +woods. In his nineteenth year he invested +his savings in a deserted farm near Beaver +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" id="page10"></a>[pg 10]</span> +Dam and passed the greater part of the +summer of 1913 in repairing the old barn +on his new possession, cutting bushes out of +the old meadows, mending fences and clearing +land.</p> + +<p class="indent">That was only a beginning he said. He +would own a thousand acres before long +and show the people of Beaver Dam—including +his own father—how to farm on a +big scale and in an up-to-date manner.</p> + +<p class="indent">Henry, the eldest Starkley of this generation, +had completed his course at college +and got a job with a railway survey party +in the upper valley of the big river. He +proved himself to be a good engineer.</p> + +<p class="indent">In the spring of 1914 Frank Sacobie, now +seventeen years of age, left Beaver Dam to +work in a sawmill on the big river. Peter +Starkley invested his winter's wages in another +mare, two cows and a ton of chemical +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" id="page11"></a>[pg 11]</span> +fertilizers. He ploughed ten acres of his +meadows and sowed five with oats, four to +buckwheat, and planted one to potatoes. +The whole family was thrilled with the romance +of his undertaking. His father +helped him to put in his crop; and Dick +and Flora found the attractions of Peter's +farm irresistible. The very tasks that they +classed as work at home they considered as +play when performed at "Peter's place." +In the romantic glow of Peter's agricultural +beginning Dick almost resigned his +military ambitions. But those ambitions +were revived by Peter himself; and this is +how it happened.</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter planned to raise horses, and he +felt that the question what class of horse to +devote his energies to was very important. +One day late in June he met a stranger in +the village of Stanley, and they "talked +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" id="page12"></a>[pg 12]</span> +horse." The stranger advised Peter to +visit King's County if he wanted knowledge +on that subject.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Enlist in the cavalry," he said—"the +8th, Princess Louise, New Brunswick Hussars. +That will give you a trip for +nothin'—two weeks—and a dollar a day—and +a chance to see every sort of horse that +was ever bred in this province, right there +in the regiment. Bring along a horse of +your own, and the government will pay you +another dollar a day for it—and feed it. I +do it every year, just for a holiday and a bit +of change."</p> + +<p class="indent">It sounded attractive to Peter, and two +weeks later he and his black mare set off for +King's County to join the regiment in its +training camp. In his absence Dick and +Flora looked after the sorrel mare, his cows +and his farm. Two weeks later Peter and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" id="page13"></a>[pg 13]</span> +the mare returned; the mare was a little +thinner than of old, and Peter was full of +talk of horses and soldiering. Dick's military +ambitions relit in him like an explosion +of gunpowder.</p> + +<p class="indent">Then came word of the war to Beaver +Dam.</p> + +<p class="indent">The folk of Beaver Dam, and of thousands +of other rural communities, were +busy with their haying when Canada +offered a division to the mother country, for +service in any part of the world. Militia +officers posted through the country, seeking +volunteers to cross the ocean and to +bear arms against terrific Germany.</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter, now in his twentieth year, wished +to join.</p> + +<p class="indent">"And what about your new farm and all +your great plans?" asked John Starkley.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Dick and I will look after his farm for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" id="page14"></a>[pg 14]</span> +him," said Flora. "We can harvest his +crops and—"</p> + +<p class="indent">Just then she looked at her mother and +suddenly became silent. Mrs. Starkley's +face was very white.</p> + +<p class="indent">"If the need for men from Canada is +great, other divisions will be called for," +said the father. "At present, only one division +has been asked for—and I think +that can easily be filled with seasoned +militiamen."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Some one drove past the window!" exclaimed +Flora.</p> + +<p class="indent">The door opened and a young man, in +the khaki service uniform of an officer, entered +the room. He halted, removed his +cap and grinned broadly at the astonished +family.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Henry!" cried Mrs. Starkley, pressing +a hand swiftly and covertly to her side.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" id="page15"></a>[pg 15]</span> +Her husband found nothing to say just +then. Dick and Flora and Emma ran to +Henry and began asking questions and examining +and fingering his belt, the leather +strapping of his smart riding breeches, +even his high, brown boots and shining +spurs.</p> + +<p class="indent">"What are you, Henry?" asked Flora.</p> + +<p class="indent">"A sapper—an engineer."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Are you an officer?" asked Dick.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Lieutenant, 1st Field Company, Canadian +Engineers—that's what I am. Hope +you approve of my boots."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Are you going, Henry?" asked Peter, +with a noticeable hitch in his voice and a +curious expression of disappointment and +relief in his eyes.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Yes, I'm to join my unit at the big mobilization +camp in Quebec in ten days," replied +Henry.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" id="page16"></a>[pg 16]</span> +John Starkley put a hand on Peter's +shoulders. "Then you will wait, Peter," +he said.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You're needed here—and we must keep +you as long as we can. One at a time is +enough."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'll wait now, but I will go with the next +lot," said Peter.</p> + +<p class="indent">Henry had nine days in which to arrange +his affairs, and no affairs to arrange. He +was in high spirits and proud of his commission, +but he put on an old tweed suit +the next morning and helped with the last +of the haying on the home farm and on +Peter's place. When the nine days were +gone he donned his uniform again and +drove away to the nearest railway station +with his mother and father and little +Emma. He wrote frequent entertaining +letters from the big camp at Valcartier. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" id="page17"></a>[pg 17]</span> +On the 29th day of September he +embarked at Quebec; the transports +gathered in GaspĂ© Basin and were joined +there by their escort of cruisers; the great +fleet put out to sea—the greatest fleet that +had ever crossed the Atlantic—bearing +thirty-three thousand Canadian soldiers to +the battlefields of Europe instead of the +twenty thousand that had been originally +promised.</p> + +<p class="indent">At Beaver Dam Peter worked harder +than ever, but with a look in his eyes at +times that seemed to carry beyond the job +in hand. A few weeks ago he had experienced +a pardonable glow of pride and self-satisfaction +when people had pointed him +out as the young fellow who had bought +the old Smith place and who was going to +farm in a big way; now it seemed to him +that the only man worth pointing out was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" id="page18"></a>[pg 18]</span> +the man who had enlisted to fight the +swarming legions of Germany.</p> + +<p class="indent">He did not invest in any more live stock +that fall. He sold all of the oats and straw +that he did not need for the wintering of his +two mares and two cows. He did not look +for a job in the lumber woods. His +potatoes were a clean and heavy crop; and +he went to Stanley to sell them. That was +early in October.</p> + +<p class="indent">The storekeeper there was a man named +Hammond, who dealt in farm produce on +a large scale and who shipped to the cities +of the province. He engaged to take +Peter's crop at a good price, then talked +about the war. One of his sons, a lieutenant +in the militia, had sailed with the first +contingent. They talked of that young +man and Henry and others who had gone.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I am off with the next lot," said Peter.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" id="page19"></a>[pg 19]</span> +"That will be soon enough," said the merchant +thoughtfully. "My daughter, Vivia, +has been visiting in Fredericton, and she +tells me there is talk of a second division +already. Jim says he is going with the next +lot, too. That will leave me without a son +at all, but I haven't the face to try to talk +him out of it."</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter accepted an invitation to have +dinner with the Hammonds. He knew the +other members of the family slightly—Mrs. +Hammond, Vivia and Jim. Jim, who was +a year or two older than Peter, was a thickset, +dull-looking young man with a reputation +as a shrewd trader. He was his +father's chief assistant in the business. +Patrick, the son who had sailed with the +first contingent, had a reputation as a fisherman +and hunter, which meant that he was +considered as frivolous and that he had no +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" id="page20"></a>[pg 20]</span> +standing at all as a business man. Vivia, +the daughter, resembled Patrick rather than +Jim. She was about seventeen years old. +Peter, who had not seen her for twelve +months, wondered how such a heavy duffer +as Jim Hammond came by such a sister.</p> + +<p class="indent">During the meal Peter paid a great deal +of attention to everything Vivia Hammond +said, and Vivia did more talking than anyone +else at the table; and yet by the time +Peter was on the road for Beaver Dam he +could not remember a dozen words of all +the hundreds she had spoken. Likewise, +he attended her with his eyes as faithfully +as with his ears; and yet by the time he was +halfway home his mind's picture of her was +all gone to glimmering fragments. The +more he concentrated his thoughts upon her +the less clearly could he see her.</p> + +<p class="indent">He laughed at himself. He could not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" id="page21"></a>[pg 21]</span> +remember ever having been in a like difficulty +before. Well, he could afford to +laugh, for, after all, he lived within a +reasonable distance of her and could drive +over again any day if his defective memory +troubled him seriously. And that is +exactly what he did,—and on the very next +day at that,——half believing even himself +that he went to talk about enlisting, and the +war in general, with her heavy brother. +He did not see Jim on that occasion, and +during a ten-minutes' interview with Vivia +he did not say more than a dozen words.</p> + +<p class="indent">On the 4th of November Peter read in the +Fredericton Harvester that recruiting had +begun in the city of St. John for the 26th +Infantry Battalion, a newly authorized unit +for overseas service. The family circle at +Beaver Dam sat up late that night. Peter +talked excitedly, and the others listened in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" id="page22"></a>[pg 22]</span> +silence. Dick's eyes shone in the lamplight.</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter drove over to Stanley early the next +morning and there took the train to Fredericton, +and from Fredericton to St. John. +He felt no military thrill. Loneliness and +homesickness weighed on him already—loneliness +for his people, for the wide home +kitchen and bright sitting-room, for his own +fields.</p> + +<p class="indent">He reached the big city by the sea after +dark. The traffic of the hard streets, the +foggy lights and the heedless, hurrying +crowds of people added bewilderment to his +loneliness. With his baggage at his feet, he +stood in the station and gazed miserably +around.</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter Starkley did not stand there unnoticed. +Dozens of the people who pushed +past him eyed him with interest and wondered +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23"></a>[pg 23]</span> +what he was waiting for. He was so +evidently not of the city. He looked at +once rustic and distinguished. But no one +spoke to him until a sergeant in a khaki +service uniform caught sight of him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I can't make you out," said the sergeant, +stepping up to him.</p> + +<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 473px;"> +<a name="i035" id="i035"></a> +<img class="border" src="images/i035.jpg" width="473" height="700" alt="" /> +<div class="caption"> +<p class="center">"'I CAN'T MAKE YOU OUT,' SAID THE SERGEANT."</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="indent">"I can place you," he said. "You're a +sergeant."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Right," returned the other. "And +you're from the country. Your big felt hat +tells me so—and your tanned face. But I +can see that you're a person of some importance +where you come from."</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter blushed. "I am a farmer and a +trooper in the 8th Hussars, and I have come +here to enlist for overseas with the new infantry +battalion," he said.</p> + +<p class="indent">"That's what I hoped!" exclaimed the +sergeant. "Come along with me, lad. You +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" id="page24"></a>[pg 24]</span> +are for the 26th Canadian Overseas Infantry +Battalion."</p> + +<p class="indent">The sergeant, whose name was Hammer, +was a cheery, friendly fellow. He was also +a very keen soldier and entertained a high +opinion of the military qualities of the new +battalion. On reaching the armory of the +local militia regiment, now being used as +headquarters of the new unit, Hammer led +Peter straight to the medical officer. The +doctor found nothing the matter with the +recruit from Beaver Dam. Then Hammer +paraded him before the adjutant. Peter +answered a few questions, took a solemn +oath and signed a paper.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Now you're a soldier, a regular soldier," +said the sergeant and slapped him on the +back. "Come along now, and in half an +hour I'll have you fitted into a uniform as +trim as my own."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" id="page25"></a>[pg 25]</span> +Within a month Peter Starkley had distinguished +himself as a steady soldier; he +had attained to the rank of lance corporal, +and then of corporal. His steadiness was +largely owing to homesickness. Of his few +intimates the closest was Sergt. Hammer.</p> + +<p class="indent">Jim Hammond did not join the regiment +until close upon Christmas. He was found +physically fit; and, as a result of a request +made by Peter to Hammer and by the sergeant +to Lieut. Scammell, and by the lieutenant +to the adjutant, he became a member +of the same platoon as Peter. Not only +that, he became one of Hammer's section, +in which Peter was a corporal.</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter felt that he should like to be good +friends with Jim Hammond, but he did not +give a definite reason even to himself for +that wish. Jim, in his own person, was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" id="page26"></a>[pg 26]</span> +not attractive to him. Peter felt misgivings +when Jim, within two days of donning his +uniform, began to grumble about the severity +of the training. Three days later Dave +Hammer, in his official capacity as a section +commander, fell upon Jim Hammond in +his official capacity as a private soldier. +Reason and justice, as well as authority, +were with the sergeant. Jim came to Peter +that evening.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Look a-here, who does Dave Hammer +think he is, anyhow?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I guess he knows who he is," replied +Peter.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Well, whoever he is," Hammond declared +wrathfully, "I won't be bawled out +by him. I guess I'm as good a man as he is—and +better."</p> + +<p class="indent">"You'll have lots of chances, from now +on, to show how good a man you are. Acting +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" id="page27"></a>[pg 27]</span> +as you did on the route march this afternoon +doesn't show it."</p> + +<p class="indent">Hammond's face darkened.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Is that so?" he retorted. "Well, I'll tell +you now I didn't come soldiering to be +taught my business by you or any other +bushwhacker from Beaver Dam. You got +two stripes, I see. I'd have two stars if I +took to licking people's boots the way you +do, Peter Starkley."</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter bent forward, and his lean face +hardened, and his dark eyes glinted coldly.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I don't want to have trouble with you, +Jim," he said, and his voice was no more +than a whisper, "but it will happen if you +don't look out. I don't lick any man's +boots! If I hear another word like that +out of you, I'll lick something—and that +will be you! Do you get me?"</p> + +<p class="indent">He looked dangerous. Hammond tried +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" id="page28"></a>[pg 28]</span> +to glare him down, but failed. Hammond's +own eyes wavered. He grunted +and turned away. The next morning he +applied for a Christmas pass, which was refused +on the ground that the men who had +joined first should be the first to receive +passes. He felt thoroughly ill-used.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" id="page29"></a>[pg 29]</span></p> + +<h2><a name="chII" id="chII"></a>CHAPTER II<br /> +<small>JIM HAMMOND DOES NOT RETURN TO DUTY</small></h2> + +<p class="indent">PETER STARKLEY got home to +Beaver Dam for New Year's Day +on a six days' pass. Jim Hammond +had also tried to get a pass, but he had +failed. Peter found his homesickness increased +by those six days; but he made +every effort to hide his emotions. He +talked bravely of his duties and his comrades, +and especially of Dave Hammer. +He said nothing about Jim Hammond except +when questioned, and then as little as +possible.</p> + +<p class="indent">He polished his buttons and badges every +morning and rolled his putties as if for +parade. The smartness of his carriage +gave a distinction even to the unlovely khaki +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" id="page30"></a>[pg 30]</span> +service uniform of a British noncommissioned +officer. He looked like a guardsman +and felt like a schoolboy who dreaded the +approaching term. He haunted the barns +and stables of the home farm and of his +own place and tramped the snow-laden +woods and blanketed fields. In spite of +his efforts to think only of the harsh and +foreign task before him, he dreamed of +clearings here and crops there. The keen, +kindly eyes of his parents saw through to +his heart.</p> + +<p class="indent">One day of the six he spent in the village +of Stanley. He called first at Hammond's +store, where he tried to give Mr. Hammond +the impression that he had dropped in +casually, but as he had nothing to sell and +did not wish to buy anything he failed to +hoodwink the storekeeper. Mr. Hammond +was cordial, but seemed worried.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" id="page31"></a>[pg 31]</span> +He complimented Peter on his promotion +and his soldierly appearance.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Glad you got home," he said. "Wish +Jim could have come along with you, but +he writes as how they won't give him a +pass. Seems to me it ain't more than only +fair to let all the boys come home for Christmas +or New Year's."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Then there wouldn't be any one left to +carry on," said Peter. "They've fixed it +so that those who have been longest on the +job get the first passes; but I guess every one +will get home for a few days before we +sail."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Jim says the training—the drill and all +that—is mighty hard," continued Mr. Hammond.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Some find it so, and some don't," replied +Peter awkwardly. "I guess it's what +you might call a matter of taste."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" id="page32"></a>[pg 32]</span> +"Like enough," said the storekeeper, +scratching his chin. "It's a matter of +taste—and not to Jim's taste, that's +sure."</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter felt relieved to see that Mr. Hammond +seemed to understand the case. He +was about to elaborate on the subject of +military training when a middle-aged man +wearing a bowler hat and a fur-lined overcoat +turned from the counter. He had a +square, clean-shaven face and very bright +and active black eyes.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Excuse me, corporal," the stranger said, +"but may I horn in and inquire what you +think of it yourself?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"You can ask if you want to, Mr. Sill," +said Mr. Hammond, "but you won't hear +any kick out of Peter Starkley, whether he +likes it or not."</p> + +<p class="indent">"It's easier than working in the woods, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" id="page33"></a>[pg 33]</span> +either chopping or teaming," said Peter +pleasantly, "and I'll bet a dollar it is a +sight easier than the real fighting will +be."</p> + +<p class="indent">"That's the way to look at it, corporal," +said the stranger. "I guess that in a war +like this a man has to make up his mind +to take the fun and the ferocity, the music +and the mud, and the pie and the pain, +just as they come."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I guess so," said Peter.</p> + +<p class="indent">The stranger shook his hand cordially +and just before he turned away remarked, +"Maybe you and I will meet again sooner +than you expect."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Who is he, and what's he driving at?" +asked Peter, when the stranger had left +the store.</p> + +<p class="indent">"He is a Yank, and a traveler for Maddock +& Co. of St. John, and his name is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" id="page34"></a>[pg 34]</span> +Hiram Sill—but I don't know what he is +driving at any more than you do," replied +Mr. Hammond.</p> + +<p class="indent">The storekeeper invited Peter to call +round at the house and to stay to dinner and +for as long as he liked afterwards. Peter +accepted the invitation. The Hammond +house stood beside the store, but farther back +from the road. It was white and big, with +a veranda in front of it, a row of leafless +maples, a snowdrifted lawn and a picket +fence. Vivia Hammond opened the door +to his ring. From behind the curtain of +the parlor window she had seen him approach.</p> + +<p class="indent">At dinner Peter talked more than was +usual with him; something in the way the +girl listened to him inspired him to conversation. +At two o'clock he accompanied her +to the river and skated with her. They +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" id="page35"></a>[pg 35]</span> +had such parts of the river as were not +drifted with snow to themselves, except for +two little boys. The little boys, interested +in Peter as a military man, kept them constantly +in sight. Peter felt decidedly hostile +toward those harmless boys, but he was +too shy to mention it to Vivia. He was delighted +and astonished when she turned +upon them at last and said:</p> + +<p class="indent">"Billy Brandon, you and Jack had better +take off your skates and go home."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I guess we got as much right as anybody +on this here river," replied Billy Brandon, +but there was a lack of conviction in his +voice.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You were both in bed with grippe only +last week," Vivia retorted; "but I'll call in +at your house and ask your mother about +it on my way up the hill."</p> + +<p class="indent">The little boys had nothing to say to that. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36"></a>[pg 36]</span> +They maintained a casual air, skated in circles +and figures for a few minutes and then +went home. For ten minutes after that the +corporal and the girl skated in an electrical +silence, looking everywhere except at each +other. Then Peter ventured a slanting +glance across his left shoulder at her little +fur-cuddled face. Their eyes met.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Poor Mrs. Brandon can't manage those +boys," she said. "But they are very good +boys, really. They do everything I tell +them."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Why shouldn't they? But I'm glad +they're gone, anyway," he replied, in a voice +that seemed to be tangled and strangled in +the collar of his greatcoat.</p> + +<p class="indent">When Vivia and Peter returned to the +house the eastern sky was eggshell green +and the west, low along the black forests, +as red as the draft of a stove. Their conversation +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" id="page37"></a>[pg 37]</span> +had never fully recovered after +the incident of the two little boys. Wonderful +and amazing thoughts and emotions +churned round in Peter's head and heart, +but he did not venture to give voice to them. +They bewildered him. He stayed to tea +and at that comfortable meal Mr. and Mrs. +Hammond did the talking. Vivia and +Peter looked at each other only shyly as if +they were afraid of what they might see in +each other's eyes.</p> + +<p class="indent">At last Peter went to the barn and harnessed +the mare. Then he returned to the +house to say good night to the ladies. That +accomplished, Vivia accompanied him to +the front door. Beyond the front door, as +a protection against icy winds and drifting +snow, was the winter porch—not much bigger +than a sentry box. Stepping across the +threshold, from the warm hall into the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" id="page38"></a>[pg 38]</span> +porch, Peter turned and clutched and held +the girl's hand across the threshold. The +tumult of his heart flooded up and smothered +the fear in his brain.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I never spent such a happy day in all +my life," he said.</p> + +<p class="indent">Vivia said nothing. And then the mischief +got into the elbow of the corporal's +right arm. It twitched; and, since his +right hand still clasped Vivia's hand, the +girl was jerked, with a little skip, right out +of the hall and into the boxlike porch.</p> + +<p class="indent">Two seconds later Peter pulled open the +porch door and dashed into the frosty night. +He jumped into the pung, and away went +the mare as if something of her master's +madness had been communicated to her. +The corporal had kissed Vivia!</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter returned to his battalion two days +later. In St. John he found everything +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" id="page39"></a>[pg 39]</span> +much as usual. Hammer was as brisk and +soldierly as ever, but Jim Hammond was +more sulky than before. Peter considered +the battalion with a new interest. Life, +even away from Beaver Dam, seemed more +worth while, and he went at his work with +a jump. He wrote twice a week to Vivia, +spending hours in the construction of each +letter and yet always leaving out the things +that he wanted most to write. The girl's +replies were the results of a similar literary +method.</p> + +<p class="indent">The training of the battalion went on, +indoors and out, day after day. In March, +Jim Hammond went home for six days. +By that time he was known throughout the +battalion as a confirmed sulker. The six +days passed; the seventh day came and went +without sight or news of him, and then the +adjutant wired to Mr. Hammond. No +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" id="page40"></a>[pg 40]</span> +reply came from the storekeeper. Lieut. +Scammell questioned Peter about the family. +Peter told what he knew—that the +Hammonds were fine people, that one son +was an officer already in England, and that +the father was an honest and patriotic citizen. +So another wire was sent from the +orderly room. That, like the first, failed +to produce results.</p> + +<p class="indent">The adjutant, Capt. Long, then sent for +Peter. This officer was not much more than +five feet high, despite the name of his +fathers, and was built in proportion. It +tickled the humor of the men to see such a +little fellow chase ten hundred bigger fellows +round from morning until night.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You are to go upriver and find out why +Private Hammond has not returned to +duty," said the captain.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Yes, sir," said Peter.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" id="page41"></a>[pg 41]</span> +"Inform me by wire," continued the captain. +"Use your brains. I am sending +you alone, because I want to give Hammond +a chance for the sake of his brother +overseas. Here are your pass, your railway +warrant and a chit for the paymaster. +That's all, Corp. Starkley."</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter saluted and retired. He reached +Fredericton that night and the home village +of Jim Hammond by noon of the next +day. He went straight to the store, where +Mr. Hammond greeted him with astonishment. +Peter saw no sign of Jim.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I didn't expect to see you back so soon," +said Mr. Hammond.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I got a chance, so I took it," replied +Peter. "How's all the family?"</p> + +<p class="indent">The storekeeper smiled. "The womenfolk +are well," he said.</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter saw that he had come suddenly to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" id="page42"></a>[pg 42]</span> +the point where he must exercise all the +tact he possessed. He felt keenly embarrassed.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Did you get a telegram?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="indent">"No. Did you wire us you were coming?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Not that, exactly. You see, it was like +this, Mr. Hammond: when Jim didn't get +back the day he was due the adjutant sent +you a wire, and when he didn't get an +answer he sent another—and when you +didn't reply to that he detailed me to come +along and see what was wrong."</p> + +<p class="indent">The storekeeper stared at him. "I never +got any telegram. Jim came home on two +weeks' furlough, and he has five days of it +left. You and your adjutant must be +crazy."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Two weeks," repeated Peter. "It was +six days he got."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" id="page43"></a>[pg 43]</span> +"Six days! Are you sure of that, Peter +Starkley?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"As sure as that's my name, Mr. Hammond. +And the adjutant sent you two +telegrams, asking why Jim didn't return to +duty when his pass was up—and he didn't +get any answer. If you didn't get one or +other of those telegrams, then there is something +wrong somewhere."</p> + +<p class="indent">Mr. Hammond's face clouded. "I didn't +get any wire, Peter—and Jim went away +day before yesterday, to visit some friends," +he said.</p> + +<p class="indent">They eyed each other in silence for a +little while; both were bitterly embarrassed, +and the storekeeper was numbed with +shame.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'll go for him," he said. "If I fetch +him to you here, will you promise to—to +keep the truth of it quiet, Peter—from his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" id="page44"></a>[pg 44]</span> +mother and sister and the folk about here?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'll do the best I can," promised the +corporal, "but not for Jim's sake, mind you, +Mr. Hammond. Capt. Long is for giving +him a chance because of his brother, Pat, +over on Salisbury Plain—and that's why he +sent me alone, instead of sending a sergeant +with an escort."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'll go fetch him, Peter," said the other, +in a shaking voice. "You go along to +Beaver Dam and come back to-morrow—to +see Vivia. When Jim and I turn up you +meet him just like it was by chance. Keep +your mouth shut, Peter. Not a word to a +living soul about his only having six days. +He's not well, and that's the truth."</p> + +<p class="indent">A dull anger was awake in Peter by this +time.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Something the matter with his feet," he +said and left the store.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" id="page45"></a>[pg 45]</span> +Here he was, told to be tactful by Capt. +Long and to keep his mouth shut by Mr. +Hammond, all on account of a sulky, lazy, +bad-tempered fellow who had been a disgrace +to the battalion since the day he +joined it. And not a word about stopping +for dinner!</p> + +<p class="indent">He crossed the road to the hotel, made +arrangements to be driven out to Beaver +Dam and then ate a lonely dinner. He +thought of Vivia Hammond only a few +yards away from him, yet unconscious of +his proximity—and he wanted to punch the +head of her brother Jim. He drove away +from the hotel up the long hill without venturing +a glance at the windows of the big +white house on the other side of the road.</p> + +<p class="indent">The family at Beaver Dam accepted his +visit without question. No mention was +made of Jim Hammond that night. Peter +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" id="page46"></a>[pg 46]</span> +was up and out early the next morning, lending +a hand with the feeding and milking.</p> + +<p class="indent">After breakfast he and Dick went over +to his own place to have a look at his house +and barns.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Frank Sacobie came home last week," +said Dick. "He's been out to see us twice. +He wants to enlist in your outfit, but I am +trying to hold him off till next year so's we +can go over together."</p> + +<p class="indent">"You babies had better keep your bibs on +a few years longer," said Peter. "I guess +there will be lots of time for all of you to +fight in this war without forcing yourselves +under glass."</p> + +<p class="indent">They rounded a spur of spruces and saw +Sacobie approaching on snowshoes across +the white meadows. He had grown taller +and deeper in the chest since Peter had last +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" id="page47"></a>[pg 47]</span> +seen him. The greeting was cordial but not +wordy. Sacobie turned and accompanied +them.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I see Jim Hammond yesterday, out Pike +Settlement way," he said.</p> + +<p class="indent">"That so?" returned Peter, trying to +seem uninterested.</p> + +<p class="indent">"No uniform on, neither, and drinkin' +some," continued Sacobie. "Says he's got +his discharge from that outfit because it +ain't reckoned as first-class and has +been asked to be an officer in another outfit."</p> + +<p class="indent">Then Peter forgot his instructions. Jim +Hammond too good for the 26th battalion! +Jim Hammond offered a commission! His +indignant heart sent his blood racing +through him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"He's a liar!" he cried. "Yes, and a deserter, +too, by thunder!"</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" id="page48"></a>[pg 48]</span> +Dick was astonished, but Frank Sacobie +received the information calmly, without so +much as a flicker of the eyelids.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I think that all the time I listen to him," +he said. "I figger to get his job, anyway, +if he lie or tell the truth. I go down to-morrow, +Peter, and you tell the colonel +how I make a darn sight better soldier than +Jim Hammond."</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter gripped the others each by an +arm.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I shouldn't have said that," he cautioned +them. "Forget it! You boys have got to +keep it under your hats, but I guess it's up +to me to take a jog out Pike Settlement way. +If you boys say a word about it, you get in +wrong with me and you get me in wrong +with a whole heap of folks."</p> + +<p class="indent">They turned and went back to Beaver +Dam. There they hitched the mares to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" id="page49"></a>[pg 49]</span> +big red pung and stowed in their blankets +and half a bag of oats.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I can't tell you where I'm going or +what for, but only that it is a military duty," +said Peter in answer to the questions of the +family.</p> + +<p class="indent">He took Dick and Frank Sacobie with +him. Once they got beyond the outskirts of +the home settlement they found heavy sledding. +At noon they halted, blanketed and +baited the mares, boiled the kettle and +lunched. The wide, white roadway before +them, winding between walls of green-black +spruces and gray maples, was marked with +only the tracks of one pair of horses and one +pair of sled runners—evidently made the +day before. Peter guessed them to be those +of Mr. Hammond's team, but he said nothing +about that to his companions.</p> + +<p class="indent">Here and there they passed drifted clearings +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" id="page50"></a>[pg 50]</span> +and little houses sending blue feathers +of smoke into the bright air. They came to +places where the team that had passed the +previous day had been stuck in the drifts and +laboriously dug out.</p> + +<p class="indent">They were within two miles of the settlement, +between heavy woods fronted with +tangled alders, when the cracking <i>whang!</i> +of exploding cordite sounded in the underbrush. +The mares plunged, then stood. +The reins slipped from Peter's mittened +hands.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'm hit, boys!" he said and then sagged +over across Dick's knees.</p> + +<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 700px;"> +<a name="i065" id="i065"></a> +<img class="border" src="images/i065.jpg" width="700" height="426" alt="" /> +<div class="caption"> +<p class="center">"'I'M HIT, BOYS!' HE SAID."</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="indent">They laid him on hay and horse blankets +in the bottom of the pung and covered him +with fur robes. Then Sacobie got up in +front and drove.</p> + +<p class="indent">No sound except the rapping of a woodpecker +came from the woods. Peter +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" id="page51"></a>[pg 51]</span> +breathed regularly. Presently he opened +his eyes.</p> + +<p class="indent">"It's in the ribs, by the feel of it—but +it doesn't hurt much," he said. "Felt +like a kick from a horse at first. Remember +not to say anything about Jim Hammond."</p> + +<p class="indent">They put him to bed at the first farmhouse +they reached. All his clothing on +the right side was stiff with blood. Dick +bandaged the wound; and a doctor arrived +two hours later. The bullet had nipped +in and out, splintering a rib, and lay just +beneath the skin. Peter had bled a good +deal, but not to a dangerous extent.</p> + +<p class="indent">Before sunrise the next morning Dick +and Frank Sacobie set out on their return +journey, taking with them a brief telegram +and a letter for Capt. Long. Peter had +dictated the message, but had written the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" id="page52"></a>[pg 52]</span> +letter with great effort, one wavery word +after another.</p> + +<p class="indent">Mr. Hammond and John Starkley +reached Pike Settlement late at night. The +storekeeper seemed broken in spirit, but +some color came back to his face when he +saw Peter lying there in the bed at the farmhouse +with as cheerful an air as if he had +only strained his ankle.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I must see you a few minutes alone before +I leave," he whispered, stooping over +the bed.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Don't worry," answered Peter.</p> + +<p class="indent">John Starkley was vastly relieved to find +his son doing so well. His bewilderment +that any one in that country should pull a +trigger on Peter almost swamped his indignation. +The more he thought it over the +more bewildered he became.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You haven't an enemy in the world, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" id="page53"></a>[pg 53]</span> +Peter—except the Germans," he said. "But +that was no chance shot. If it had been an +accident, the fellow with the rifle would +have come out to lend a hand."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I guess that's so," replied Peter. +"Maybe it was a German. It means a lot +to the Kaiser to keep me out of this war."</p> + +<p class="indent">His father smiled. "Joking aside, lad," +he said, "who do you suppose it was? +What was the bullet? Many a murderer +has been traced before now on a less likely +clue than a bullet."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Isn't the bullet on the table there, Mr. +Hammond? The doctor gave it to me, and +I chucked it somewhere—over there or +somewhere."</p> + +<p class="indent">They looked in vain for the bullet. Later, +when the guests and the household were at +supper, Mr. Hammond excused himself +from table and ran up to Peter's room. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" id="page54"></a>[pg 54]</span> +He closed the door behind him, leaned +over the bed and grasped Peter's left hand +in both of his.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I did my best," he whispered. "I +found him and told him you had been sent +because the officer wanted to give him a +chance. But he had been drinking heavy. +He wasn't himself, Peter—he was like a +madman. I begged him to come back with +me, but he wouldn't hear reason or kindness. +He knocked me down—me, his own +father—and got away from that house. +What are you going to do, Peter? You +are a man, Starkley—a big man—big +enough to be merciful. What d'you mean +to do?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Nothing," said Peter. "I came to find +Jim, and I haven't found him. I got shot +instead by some one I haven't seen hair, +hide or track of. It's up to the army to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" id="page55"></a>[pg 55]</span> +find Jim, if they still want him; but as far +as I am concerned he may be back with the +battalion this minute for all I know. I +hope he is. As for the fellow who made a +target of me, well, he didn't kill me, and I +don't hold a grudge against him."</p> + +<p class="indent">Mr. Hammond went home the first thing +in the morning. John Starkley waited until +the doctor called again and dressed the +wound and said he had never seen any one +take a splintered rib and a hole in the side +so well as Peter.</p> + +<p class="indent">"If he keeps on like this, you'll be able +to take him home in ten days or so," said +the doctor.</p> + +<p class="indent">So John Starkley returned to Beaver +Dam, delivered the good news to his family +and heard in return that young Frank +Sacobie had gone to St. John and joined the +26th.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" id="page56"></a>[pg 56]</span></p> + +<h2><a name="chIII" id="chIII"></a>CHAPTER III<br /> +<small>THE VETERANS OF OTHER DAYS</small></h2> + +<p class="indent">WHEN Peter was able to travel, +he was taken home to Beaver +Dam, and there a medical +officer, a major in spurs, examined him and +congratulated him on being alive. Peter +was given six months' sick leave; and that, +he knew, killed his chance of crossing the +ocean with his battalion. He protested, +but the officer told him that, whether in +bed in his father's house or with his platoon, +he was still in the army and would have to +do as he was told. The officer said it +kindly and added that as soon as he was +fit he should return to his battalion, whether +it was in Canada, England or Flanders.</p> + +<p class="indent">Jim Hammond vanished. The army +marked him as a deserter, and even his own +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" id="page57"></a>[pg 57]</span> +battalion forgot him. Confused rumors +circulated round his home village for a +little while and then faded and expired. +As Jim Hammond vanished from the +knowledge and thought of men, so vanished +the mysterious rifleman who had splintered +Peter's rib.</p> + +<p class="indent">Spring brought the great news of the +stand of the First Canadian Division at +Ypres—the stand of the few against the +many, of the Canadian militia against the +greatest and most ruthless fighting machine +of the whole world. The German army +was big and ready, but it was not great as +we know greatness now. The little Belgians +had already checked it and pierced +the joints of its armor; the French had +beaten it against odds; the little old army +of England, with its monocles and its tea +and its pouter-chested sergeant majors, had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" id="page58"></a>[pg 58]</span> +outshot it and outfought it at every meeting; +and now three brigades of Canadian infantry +and a few batteries of Canadian artillery +had stood undaunted before its deluge +of metal and strangling gas and held +it back from the open road to Calais and +Paris.</p> + +<p class="indent">Lieut. Pat Hammond wrote home about +the battle. He had been in the edge of it +and had escaped unhurt. Henry Starkley, +of the First Field Company, was there, +too. He received a slight wound. Private +letters and the great stories of the +newspapers thrilled the hearts of thousands +of peaceful, unheroic folk. Volunteers +flowed in from lumber camps and farms.</p> + +<p class="indent">In May Dick Starkley made the great +move of his young life. He was now seventeen +years old and sound and strong. He +saw that Peter could not get away with his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" id="page59"></a>[pg 59]</span> +battalion—that, unless something unexpected +happened, the Second Canadian Division +would get away without a Starkley of +Beaver Dam.</p> + +<p class="indent">So he did the unexpected thing: he went +away to St. John without a word, introduced +himself to Sgt. Dave Hammer as Peter's +brother, added a year to his age and became +a member of the 26th Battalion. He found +Frank Sacobie there, already possessed of +all the airs of an old soldier.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick sent a telegram to his father and a +long, affectionate, confused letter to his +mother. His parents understood and forgave +and went to St. John and told him so—and +Peter sent word that he, too, understood; +and Dick was happy. Then with all +his thought and energy and ambition he set +to work to make himself a good soldier.</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter did not grumble again about his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" id="page60"></a>[pg 60]</span> +sick leave. His wound healed; and as the +warm days advanced he grew stronger with +every day. He had been wounded in the +performance of his duty as surely as if a +German had fired the shot across the mud +of No Man's Land; so he accepted those +extra months in the place and life he loved +with a gratitude that was none the less deep +for being silent.</p> + +<p class="indent">In June the Battalion embarked for England, +in strength eleven hundred noncommissioned +officers and men and forty-two +officers. After an uneventful voyage of +eleven days they reached Devenport, in +England, on the twenty-fourth day of the +month. The three other battalions of the +brigade had reached England a month before; +the 26th joined them at the training +camps in Kent and immediately set to work +to learn the science of modern warfare. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" id="page61"></a>[pg 61]</span> +They toiled day and night with vigor and +constancy; and before fall the battalion was +declared efficient for service at the front.</p> + +<p class="indent">Both Dick Starkley and Frank Sacobie +throve on the hard work. The musketry +tests proved Sacobie to be one of the best +five marksmen in the battalion. Dick was +a good shot, too, but fell far below his friend +at the longer ranges. In drill, bombing +and physical training, Dick showed himself +a more apt pupil than the Malecite. At +trench digging and route marching there +was nothing to choose between them, in +spite of the fact that Sacobie had the advantage +of a few inches in length of leg. +Both were good soldiers, popular with their +comrades and trusted by their officers. +Both were in Dave Hammer's section and +Mr. Scammell's platoon.</p> + +<p class="indent">One afternoon in August Henry Starkley +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" id="page62"></a>[pg 62]</span> +turned up at Westenhanger, on seven +days' leave from France. He looked years +older than when Dick had last seen him and +thinner of face, and on his left breast was +stitched the ribbon of the military cross. +He obtained a pass for Dick and took him +up to London. They put up at a quiet hotel +off the Strand, at which Henry had stopped +on his frequent week-end visits to town from +Salisbury Plain. As they were engaged in +filling in the complicated and exhaustive +registration form the hall porter gave Henry +three letters and told him that a gentleman +had called several times to see him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"What name?" asked Henry.</p> + +<p class="indent">"That he didn't tell me, sir," replied the +porter, "but as it was him wrote the letters +you have in your hand you'll soon know, +sir."</p> + +<p class="indent">Henry opened one of the envelopes and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" id="page63"></a>[pg 63]</span> +turned the inclosure over in quest of the +writer's signature. There it was—J. A. +Starkley-Davenport. All three letters were +from the same hand, penned at dates +several weeks apart. They said that before +her marriage the writer's mother had +been a Miss Mary Starkley, daughter of a +London merchant by the name of Richard +Starkley. Richard Starkley, a colonial by +birth with trade connections with the West +Indies, had come from Beaver Dam in the +province of New Brunswick. The letters +said further that their writer had read in +the casualty lists the name of Lieut. Henry +Starkley of the Canadian Engineers, and +that after diligent inquiry he had learned +that this same officer had registered at the +Canadian High Commissioner's office in +October, 1914, and given his London address +as the Tudor Hotel. Failing to obtain any +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" id="page64"></a>[pg 64]</span> +further information concerning Henry +Starkley, the writer had kept a constant eye +on the Tudor Hotel. He begged Mr. +Henry Starkley to ring up Mayfair 2607, +without loss of time, should any one of +these letters ever come to his hand.</p> + +<p class="indent">"What's his hurry, I wonder?" remarked +Henry. "After three generations without a +word I guess he'll have to wait until to-morrow +morning to hear from the Starkleys +of Beaver Dam."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Why not let him wait for three more +generations?" suggested Dick. "His grandfather, +that London merchant, soon forgot +about the people back in the woods at +Beaver Dam. Since the second battle of +Ypres, this lad with the hitched-up-double +name wants to be seen round with you, +Henry."</p> + +<p class="indent">"If that's all, he does not want much," +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" id="page65"></a>[pg 65]</span> +said Henry. "We'll take a look at him, +anyway. Don't forget that the first Starkley +of Beaver Dam was once an English +soldier and that there was a first battle of +Ypres before there was a second."</p> + +<p class="indent">The brothers, the lieutenant of engineers +and the infantry private, had dinner at a +restaurant where there were shaded candles +and music; then they went to a theater. +Although the war was now only a year old, +London had already grown accustomed to +the "gentleman ranker." Brothers, cousins +and even sons of officers in the little old +army were now private soldiers and noncommissioned +officers in the big new army. +The uniform was the great thing. Rank +badges denoted differences of degree, not +of kind. So Lieut. Henry Starkley and +Private Dick Starkley, together at their +little luxurious table for two and later elbow +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" id="page66"></a>[pg 66]</span> +to elbow at the theater, did not cause +comment. Immediately after breakfast the +next morning Henry rang up the Mayfair +number. A voice of inquiring deference, +a voice that suggested great circumspection +and extreme polish, answered him. Henry +asked for Mr. Starkley-Davenport.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You want the captain, sir," corrected +the voice. "Mr. David was killed at +Ypres in '14. What name, sir?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Starkley," replied Henry.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Of Canada, sir? Of Beaver Dam? +Here is the captain, sir."</p> + +<p class="indent">Another voice sounded in Henry's ear, +asking whether it was Henry Starkley of the +sappers on the other end of the line. +Henry replied in the affirmative.</p> + +<p class="indent">"It is Jack Davenport speaking—Starkley-Davenport," +continued the voice. +"Glad you have my letters at last. Are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" id="page67"></a>[pg 67]</span> +you at the same hotel? Can you wait there +half an hour for me?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'll wait," said Henry.</p> + +<p class="indent">He and Dick awaited the arrival of the +grandson of Richard Starkley with lively +curiosity. That he was a captain, and that +some one connected with him, perhaps a +brother, had been killed at Ypres in 1914, +added considerable interest to him in their +eyes.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Size him up before trying any of your +old-soldier airs on him, young fellow," +warned Henry.</p> + +<p class="indent">They sat in the lounge of the hotel and +kept a sharp watch on everyone who entered +by the revolving doors. It was a quiet +place, as hotels go in London, but during the +half hour of their watching more people +than the entire population of Beaver Dam +were presented to their scrutiny. At last +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" id="page68"></a>[pg 68]</span> +a pale young fellow in a Panama hat and +a gray-flannel suit entered. Under his left +shoulder was a crutch and in his right hand +a big, rubber-shod stick. His left knee +was bent, and his left foot swung clear of +the ground. His hands were gloved in +gray, and he wore a smoke-blue flower in +his buttonhole. Only his necktie was out +of tone with the rest of his equipment: it +was in stripes of blue and red and yellow. +Behind him, close to his elbow, came a thin, +elderly man who was dressed in black.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Lieut. Starkley?" he inquired of the +hall porter.</p> + +<p class="indent">At that Henry and Dick both sprang to +their feet and went across to the man in +gray. Before they could introduce themselves +the young stranger edged himself +against his elderly companion, thus making +a prop of him, hooked the crook of his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" id="page69"></a>[pg 69]</span> +stick into a side pocket of his coat, and extended +his right hand to Henry. He did +it all so swiftly and smoothly that it almost +escaped notice; and, pitiful as it was, it +almost escaped pity.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Will you lunch with me—if you have +nothing better to do?" he asked. "You're +on leave, I know, and it sounds cheek to +ask—but I want to talk to you about something +rather important."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Of course—and here is my young +brother," said Henry.</p> + +<p class="indent">The captain shook hands with Dick and +then stared at him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You are only a boy," he said; and then, +seeing the blood mount to Dick's tanned +cheeks, he continued, "and all the better +for that, perhaps. The nippiest man in +my platoon was only nineteen."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Of course you remember, sir, Mr. David +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" id="page70"></a>[pg 70]</span> +had not attained his twentieth birthday," +the elderly man in black reminded him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You are right, Wilson," said the captain. +"Hit in October, '14. He was my +young brother. There were just the two of +us. Shall we toddle along? I kept my +taxi."</p> + +<p class="indent">Capt. J. A. Starkley-Davenport occupied +three rooms and a bath in his own house, +which was a big one in a desirable part of +town. The remaining rooms were occupied +by his servants. And such servants!</p> + +<p class="indent">The cook was so poor a performer that +whenever the captain had guests for luncheon +or dinner she sent out to a big hotel +near by for the more important dishes—but +her husband had been killed in Flanders, +and her three sons were still in the field. +Wilson, who had been Jack's father's color +sergeant in South Africa, was the valet.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" id="page71"></a>[pg 71]</span> +The butler was a one-armed man of forty-five +years who had served as a company +sergeant major in the early days of the war; +in rallying half a dozen survivors of his +company he had got his arm in the way of +a chunk of high-explosive shell and had +decorated his chest with the Distinguished +Conduct Medal. He had only the vaguest +notions what his duties as butler required +of him but occupied his time in arguing the +delicate question of seniority with Wilson +and the coachman and making frequent +reports to the captain.</p> + +<p class="indent">The coachman, who had served forty +years in the navy, most of the time as chief +petty officer, claimed seniority of the butler +and Wilson on the grounds of belonging +to the senior service. But the ex-sergeants +argued that the captain's house was as much +a bit of the army as brigade headquarters +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" id="page72"></a>[pg 72]</span> +in France, and that the polite thing for any +sailorman to do who found a home there +was to forget all about seniority; and that +for their part they did not believe the British +navy was older than the British army.</p> + +<p class="indent">Captain Starkley-Davenport introduced +into this household his cousins from Beaver +Dam, without apologies and with only a +few words of explanation. In spite of the +butler's protests, the valet and the coachman +intruded themselves on the luncheon +party, pretending to wait on table, but in +reality satisfying their curiosity concerning +the military gentlemen from Canada +whose name was the front half of the captain's +name. They paused frequently in +their light duties round the table and +frankly gave ear to the conversation. Their +glances went from face to face with childish +eagerness, intent on each speaker in turn. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" id="page73"></a>[pg 73]</span> +The captain did not mind, for he was accustomed +to their ways and their devouring +interest in him; Henry was puzzled at +first and then amused; and Dick was highly +flattered.</p> + +<p class="indent">"There isn't anyone of our blood in our +regiment now, and that is what I particularly +want to talk to you chaps about," +said the captain, after a little talk on general +subjects. "My father and young +brother are gone, and the chances are that +I won't get back. But the interests of the +regiment are still mine—and I want the +family to continue to have a stake in it. +No use asking you to transfer, Henry, I +can see that; you are a sapper and already +proved in the field, and I know how sappers +feel about their job; but Dick's an +infantryman. What d'you say to transfer +and promotion, Dick? You can get your +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page74" id="page74"></a>[pg 74]</span> +commission in one of our new battalions as +easy as kiss. It will help you and the old +regiment."</p> + +<p class="indent">"But perhaps I shouldn't make a good +officer," replied Dick. "I've never been +in action, you know."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Don't worry about that. I'll answer for +your quality. You wouldn't have enlisted +if the right stuff wasn't in you."</p> + +<p class="indent">"But I'd like to prove it, first—although +I'd like to be an officer mighty well. That's +what I intend to be some day. I think I'll +stick to the 26th a while. That would be +fairer—and I'd feel better satisfied, if ever +I won a commission, to have it in my own +outfit. Frank Sacobie would feel sore if I +left him, before we'd ever been in France +together, to be an officer in another outfit. +But there is Peter. He is a corporal already +and a mighty good soldier."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" id="page75"></a>[pg 75]</span> +He told all about Peter and the queer +way he was wounded back in Canada and +then all about his friend, Frank Sacobie. +The captain and the three attendants +listened with interest. The captain asked +many questions; and the butler, the valet +and the coachman were on the point of doing +the same many times.</p> + +<p class="indent">After luncheon Wilson, the elderly valet, +took command gently but firmly and led +the captain off to bed. The brothers left +the addresses of themselves and Peter with +the captain and promised to call at every +opportunity and to bring Sacobie to see him +at the first chance.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick and Frank Sacobie continued their +training, and in July Dick got his first +stripe. A few members of the battalion +went to the hospital, and a few were returned +to Canada for one reason or another. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" id="page76"></a>[pg 76]</span> +In August a little draft of men fresh from +Canada came to the battalion.</p> + +<p class="indent">One of the new men kept inquiring so +persistently for Corp. Peter Starkley that +in the course of time he was passed along +to Dick, who told him about Peter.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'm downright sorry to hear that," said +the new arrival. "I saw him in Mr. Hammond's +store one day and took a shine to +him, but as you're his own brother I guess +I'm in the right outfit. Hiram Sill is my +name."</p> + +<p class="indent">They shook hands cordially.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'm an American citizen and not so +young as I used to be," continued Sill, "but +the minute this war started I knew I'd be +into it before long. Soldiering is a business +now, and I am a business man. So +it looked to me as if I were needed—as if +the energy I was expending in selling boots +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page77" id="page77"></a>[pg 77]</span> +and shoes for Maddock & Co. would count +some if turned against the Kaiser. So I +swore an oath to fight King George's enemies, +and I guess I've made no mistake in +that. King George and Hiram Sill see +eye to eye and tooth to tooth in this war +like two coons at a watermelon."</p> + +<p class="indent">In spite of the fact that Mr. Scammell's +platoon was already up to strength, Sill +worked his way into it.</p> + +<p class="indent">He had a very good reason for wanting +to be in that particular platoon, and there +were men already in it who had no particular +reason for remaining in it instead of +going to some other platoon; so—as Sill +very justly remarked to Dick, to Sacobie, to +Sergt. Hammer, to Lieut. Scammell and to +Capt. Long—he did not see why he could +not be where he wanted to be. Friendship +for Frank Sacobie and Dick Starkley and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page78" id="page78"></a>[pg 78]</span> +admiration for Sergt. Hammer and Lieut. +Scammell were the reasons he gave for +wanting to be in that platoon.</p> + +<p class="indent">"He seems a friendly chap," said the +adjutant to Mr. Scammell. "Will you +take him? If so, you can let the Smith +with the red head go over to Number +Three, where he will be with a whole grist +of lads from his own part of the country. +What d'ye say? He looks smart and willing +to me."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Sure I'll take him," said Mr. Scammell. +"He says he admires me."</p> + +<p class="indent">So Hiram Sill became a member of +Number Two Platoon. He worked with +the energy of a tiger and with the good +nature of a lamb. He talked a great deal, +but always with a view to acquiring or imparting +knowledge. When he found that +his military duties and the cultivation of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" id="page79"></a>[pg 79]</span> +friendships did not use up all his time and +energy, he set himself to the task of ascertaining +how many Americans were enrolled +in the First and Second Canadian divisions. +Then indeed he became a busy man; and +still his cry continued to be that soldiering +was a business.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page80" id="page80"></a>[pg 80]</span></p> + +<h2><a name="chIV" id="chIV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /> +<small>PRIVATE SILL ACTS</small></h2> + +<p class="indent">ON the night of September 15, 1915, +the brigade of which the 26th Battalion +was a unit crossed from +Folkstone to Boulogne without accident. +All the ranks were in the highest spirits, +fondly imagining that the dull routine of +training was dead forever and that the practice +of actual warfare was as entertaining +as dangerous.</p> + +<p class="indent">The brigade moved up by way of the +fine old city of Saint Omer and the big +Flemish town of Hazebrouck. By the +fourth day after landing in France the +whole brigade was established in the forward +area of operations, along with the +other brigades of the new division. On +the night of the 19th the battalion marched +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page81" id="page81"></a>[pg 81]</span> +up and went into hutments and billets close +behind the Kemmel front. That night, +from the hill above their huts, the men from +New Brunswick beheld for the first time +that fixed, fire-pulsing line beyond which +lay the menace of Germany.</p> + +<p class="indent">The battalion went in under cover of +darkness, and by midnight had taken over +from the former defenders the headquarters +of companies, the dugouts in the support +trenches and the sentry posts in the fire +trench. There were Dick Starkley and his +comrades holding back the Huns from the +throat of civilization. It was an amazing +and inspiring position to be in for the first +time. In front of them, just beneath and +behind the soaring and falling star shells +and Very lights, crouched the most ruthless +and powerful armies of the world.</p> + +<p class="indent">To the right and left, every now and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page82" id="page82"></a>[pg 82]</span> +then, machine guns broke forth in swift, +rapping fire. When the fire was from the +positions opposite, the bullets snapped in the +air like the crackings of a whip. The +white stars went up and down. Great guns +thumped occasionally; now and then a high +shell whined overhead; now and then the +burst of an exploding shell sounded before +or behind. It was a quiet night; but to the +new battalion it was full of thrills. The +sentries never took their eyes from the mysterious +region beyond their wire. Every +blob of blackness beyond their defenses set +their pulses racing and sent their hands to +their weapons.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick Starkley and Frank Sacobie stood +shoulder to shoulder on the fire step for +hours, staring with all their eyes and listening +with all their ears. Hiram Sill sat at +their feet and talked about how he felt on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page83" id="page83"></a>[pg 83]</span> +this very particular occasion. His friends +paid no attention to him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"This is the proudest moment of my life," +he said. "We are historic figures, boys—and +that's a thing I never hoped to be. In +my humble way, I stand for more than +George Washington did. This is a bigger +war than George ever dreamed of, and I +have a bigger and better reason for fighting +the Huns than Gen. Washington ever +had for fighting the fool Britishers."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Did you see that?" asked Dick of Sacobie. +"Over in the edge of their wire. +There! Look quick now! Is it a man?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Looks like a man, but it's been there +right along and ain't moved yet," said +Frank. "Maybe it's a stump."</p> + +<p class="indent">Just then Lieut. Scammell came along. +He got up on the fire step and, directed by +Dick, trained his glass on the black thing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page84" id="page84"></a>[pg 84]</span> +in the edge of the enemy's wire. A German +star shell gave him light.</p> + +<p class="indent">"That's a German—a dead one," he said. +"I've been told about him. There was a +bit of a scrap over there three nights ago, +and that is one of the scrappers."</p> + +<p class="indent">Hiram forgot about Gen. Washington +and mounted the fire step to have a look. +He borrowed the officer's glass for the purpose.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Do his friends intend to leave him out +there much longer, sir?" he asked. "If +they do, it's a sure sign of weakness. +They're scart."</p> + +<p class="indent">"They are scart, right enough—but I +bet they wouldn't be if they knew this bit +of trench was being held now by a green +battalion," replied Mr. Scammell. "They'd +be over for identifications if they knew."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Let them come!" exclaimed Private +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" id="page85"></a>[pg 85]</span> +Sill. "I bet a dollar they wouldn't stay to +breakfast—except a few who wouldn't want +any."</p> + +<p class="indent">At that moment a rifle cracked to the +right of them, evidently from their own +trench and not more than one hundred yards +away. It was followed close by a spatter +of shots, then the smashing bursts of grenades, +more musketry and the <i>rat-tat-tat</i> of +several machine guns. Bullets snapped in +the air. Lights trailed up from both lines. +Dull thumps sounded far away, and then +came the whining songs of high-flying +shells. Flashes of fire astonished the eye, +and crashing reports stunned the ear.</p> + +<p class="indent">"They're at us!" exclaimed the lieutenant. +"Open fire on the parapet opposite, unless +you see a better target, and don't leave +your posts. Keep low. Better use the +loopholes."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" id="page86"></a>[pg 86]</span> +He left the fire step and ran along the +duck boards toward the heart of the row.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick and Frank Sacobie and Hiram +Sill, firing rapidly through the loopholes, +added what they could to the disturbance. +Now and again a bullet rang against the +steel plate of a loophole. One or another +of them took frequent observations through +a periscope, for at that time the Canadian +troops were not yet supplied with shrapnel +helmets. Dave Hammer, breathless with +excitement, joined them for a few seconds.</p> + +<p class="indent">"They tried to jump us,—must have +learned we're a green relief,—but we've +chewed them up for fair!" he gasped. +"Must have been near a hundred of 'em—but +not one got through our wire. Keep +yer heads down for a while, boys; they're +traversing our top with emmagees."</p> + +<p class="indent">At last the enemy's artillery fire slackened +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" id="page87"></a>[pg 87]</span> +and died. Ours drubbed away cheerily +for another fifteen minutes, then ceased +as quick and clean as the snap of a finger. +The rifle fire and machine-gun fire dwindled +and ceased. Even the up-spurting of +the white and watchful stars diminished by +half; but now and again one of them from +the hostile lines, curving far forward in its +downward flight, illuminated a dozen or +more motionless black shapes in and in front +of our rusty wire. Except for those motionless +figures No Man's Land was again deserted. +The big rats ran there undisturbed.</p> + +<p class="indent">Sacobie looked over the parapet; Hiram +Sill and Dick sat on the fire step at the +Malecite's feet. They felt as tired as if +they had been wrestling with strong men +for half an hour. Dave Hammer came +along the trench and halted before them.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Those Huns or Fritzes or whatever you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" id="page88"></a>[pg 88]</span> +call them are crazy," he said. "Did you +ever hear of such a fool thing as that? +They've left a dozen dead out in front, besides +what they carried home along with +their wounded—and all they did to us was +wound three of our fellows with that first +bomb they threw, and two more with +machine-gun fire."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Their officers must be boneheads, for +sure," said Hiram. "War's a business,—and +a mighty swift one,—and you can't succeed +in business without knowing something +about psychology. Yes, gentlemen, +psychology, queer as it may sound."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Sounds mighty queer to me!" muttered +Sacobie, glancing down.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You must study men," continued Private +Sill, not at all abashed, "their souls and +hearts and minds—if you want to make a +success at anything except bee farming. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" id="page89"></a>[pg 89]</span> +Now, take this fool raid of the Huns. They +were smart enough to find out that a bunch +of greenhorns took over this trench to-night. +So they thought they'd surprise us. Now, +if they'd known anything about psychology, +they'd have known that just because we +were new and green we'd all be on our +toes to-night, with our eyes sticking out a +yard and our ears buttoned right back. +Sure! Every man of us was on sentry duty +to-night!"</p> + +<p class="indent">"I guess you've got the right idea, Old +Psychology," said the sergeant.</p> + +<p class="indent">The 26th spent five days in the line on +that tour. With the exception of one day +and night of rain they had fine weather. +They mended their wire and did a fair +amount of business in No Man's Land. +The enemy attempted no further raids; his +last effort had evidently given him more information +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" id="page90"></a>[pg 90]</span> +concerning the quality of the +new battalion than he could digest in +a week. At any rate he kept very +quiet.</p> + +<p class="indent">At the end of the tour the battalion went +back a little way to huts on the bushy flanks +of Scherpenberg, where they "rested" by +performing squad, platoon and company +drill and innumerable fatigues. The time +remaining at their disposal was devoted to +football and base-ball and investigations of +villages and farmsteads in the neighborhood.</p> + +<p class="indent">Their second tour in was more lively and +less comfortable than the first. Under the +drench of rain and the gnawing of dank +and chilly mists their trenches and all the +surrounding landscape were changed from +dry earth to mud. Everything in the front +line, including their persons, became caked +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page91" id="page91"></a>[pg 91]</span> +with mud. The duck boards became a +chain of slippery traps; and in low trenches +they floated like rafts. The parapets slid +in and required constant attention; and what +the water left undone in the way of destruction +the guns across the way tried to finish.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was hard on the spirit of new troops; +they were toughened to severe work and +rough living, but not to the deadening mud +of a front-line trench in low ground. So +their officers planned excitement for them, +to keep the fire of interest alive in their +hearts. That excitement was obtained in +several ways, but always by a move of some +sort against the enemy or his defenses. +Patrol work was the most popular form of +relief from muddy inaction. Lieut. Scammell +quickly developed a skill in that and +an appetite for it that soon drew the colonel's +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page92" id="page92"></a>[pg 92]</span> +attention to himself and his followers.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="indent">By the end of September, even the medical +officers of New Brunswick had to admit +that Corp. Peter Starkley was fully recovered +from his wound. As for Peter himself, +he affirmed that he had not felt anything +of it for the past two months. He had +worked at the haying and the harvesting on +Beaver Dam and his own place without +so much as a twinge of pain.</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter returned to his military duties +eagerly, but inspired only by his sense of +duty. His heart was more than ever in his +own countryside; but despite his natural +modesty he knew that he was useful to his +king and country as a noncommissioned +officer, and with that knowledge he fortified +his heart. He tried to tell Vivia Hammond +something of what he felt. His words +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" id="page93"></a>[pg 93]</span> +were stumbling and inadequate, but she +understood him. And at the last he said:</p> + +<p class="indent">"Vivia, don't forget me, for I shall be +thinking of you always—more than of anyone +or anything in the world." And then, +not trusting his voice for more, he kissed +her hastily.</p> + +<p class="indent">Vivia wept and made no attempt to hide +her tears or the reason for them.</p> + +<p class="indent">Shortly before Peter's return to the army +he had received a letter from Capt. Starkley-Davenport, +telling of the reunion of +the cousins in London and virtually offering +him a commission in the writer's old +regiment. Peter had also heard something +of the plan from Dick a few days before. +He answered the captain's letter +promptly and frankly, to the effect that he +had no military ambition beyond that of +doing his duty to the full extent of his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" id="page94"></a>[pg 94]</span> +power against Germany, and that a commission +in an English regiment was an +honor he could accept only if it should +come to him unavoidably, in the day's +work.</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter reached England in the third week +of October and with three hundred companions +fresh from Canada was attached to +a reserve battalion on St. Martin's Plain +for duty and instruction. Peter was given +the acting rank of sergeant. Early in +December he crossed to France and reached +his battalion without accident. He found +that the 26th had experienced its full share +of the fortunes and misfortunes of war. +Scores of familiar faces were gone. His +old platoon had suffered many changes +since he had left it in St. John a year ago. +Its commander, a Lieut. Smith, was an entire +stranger to him, and he had known the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" id="page95"></a>[pg 95]</span> +platoon sergeant as a private. Mr. Scammell +was now scout officer and expecting +his third star at any moment. Dave Hammer, +still a sergeant, and Dick, Sacobie and +Hiram Sill also were scouts. Dick, was a +corporal now and had never been touched +by shot, shell or sickness. Sacobie had been +slightly wounded and had been away at a +field ambulance for a week.</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter rejoined his old platoon and, as it +was largely composed at this time of new +troops, was permitted to retain his acting +rank of sergeant. He performed his duties +so satisfactorily that he was confirmed +in his rank after his first tour in +the trenches.</p> + +<p class="indent">On the third night of Peter's second tour +in the front line, Dave Hammer, Dick and +Frank Sacobie took him out to show him +about. All carried bombs, and Sergt. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" id="page96"></a>[pg 96]</span> +Hammer had a pistol as well. They were +hoping to surprise a party of Germans at +work mending their wire.</p> + +<p class="indent">Hammer slipped over the parapet. Peter +followed him. Dick and Sacobie went +over together, quick as the wink of an eye. +Their faces and hands were black. With +Dave Hammer in the lead, Peter at the +very soles of his spiked boots and Dick and +Sacobie elbow to elbow behind Peter, they +crawled out through their own wire by the +way of an intricate channel. When a star +shell went up in front, near enough to light +that particular area, they lay motionless. +They went forward during the brief periods +of darkness and half light.</p> + +<p class="indent">At last they got near enough to the German +wire to see it plainly, and the leader +changed his course to the left. When they +lay perfectly still they could hear many +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" id="page97"></a>[pg 97]</span> +faint, vague sounds in every direction: far, +dull thuds before and behind them, spatters +of rifle fire far off to the right and left, the +bang of a Very pistol somewhere behind +a parapet and now and then the crash of +a bursting shell.</p> + +<p class="indent">A few minutes later Dave twisted about +and laid a hand on Peter's shoulder. He +gave it a gentle pull. Peter crawled up +abreast of him. Dave put his lips to Peter's +ear and whispered:</p> + +<p class="indent">"There they are."</p> + +<p class="indent">A twisty movement of his right foot had +already signaled the same information to +the veterans in the rear. Peter stared at +the blotches of darkness that Dave had indicated. +They did not move often or +quickly and kept close to the ground. +Sometimes, when a light was up, they became +motionless and instantly melted from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" id="page98"></a>[pg 98]</span> +view, merging into the shadows of the night +and the tangled wire. Now and then Peter +heard some faint sound of their labor, as +they worked at the wire.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Only five of them," whispered the scout +sergeant. "They are scared blue. Bet +their skunks of officers had to kick them +out of the trench. Let's sheer off a few +yards and give 'em something to be scared +about."</p> + +<p class="indent">Just then Dick and Frank squirmed up +beside them.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Some more straight ahead of us," +breathed the Indian. "Three or four."</p> + +<p class="indent">Hammer used his glass and saw that Sacobie's +eyes had not fooled him. He +touched each of his companions to assure +himself of their attention, then twisted sharp +to the left, back toward their own line, and +crawled away. They followed. After he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" id="page99"></a>[pg 99]</span> +had covered about ten yards, Dave turned +end for end in his muddy trail, and the +others came up to him and turned beside +him. They saw that the wiring party and +the patrol had joined.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Spread a bit," whispered Dave. "I'll +chuck one at 'em, and when it busts you +fellows let fly and then beat it back for the +hole in our wire. Take cover if the emmagees +get busy. I'll be right behind +you."</p> + +<p class="indent">They moved a few paces to the right and +left. Peter's lips felt dry, and he wanted +to sneeze. He took a plump, cold, heavy +little grenade in his muddy right hand. A +few breathless, slow seconds passed and +then <i>smash!</i> went Dave's bomb over against +the Hun wire. Then Peter stood up and +threw—and three bombs exploded like one.</p> + +<p class="indent">Turning, Peter slithered along on all +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" id="page100"></a>[pg 100]</span> +fours after Dick and Sacobie. The startled +Huns lighted up their front as if for a +national fĂŞte; but Peter chanced it and kept +on going. A shrapnel shell exploded overhead +with a terrific sound, and the fat bullets +spattered in the mud all round him. +He came to another and larger crater and +was about to skirt it when a familiar voice +exclaimed:</p> + +<p class="indent">"Come in here, you idiot!"</p> + +<p class="indent">There was Dick and Frank Sacobie +standing hip-deep in the mud and water at +the bottom of the hole. Peter joined them +with a few bushels of mud. A whiz-bang +whizzed and banged red near-by, and +the three ducked and knocked their +heads together. The water was bitterly +cold.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Did you think you were on your way +to the barns to milk?" asked Dick. "Don't +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" id="page101"></a>[pg 101]</span> +you know the machine guns are combing +the ground?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'll remember," said Peter. "New +work to me, and I guess I was a bit flustered. +I wonder where Dave Hammer has +got himself to."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Some hole or other, sure," said Sacobie. +"Don't worry 'bout Dave. He put three +bombs into them. I counted the busts. +Fritz will quiet down in a few minutes, I +guess, and let us out of here—if our fellows +don't get gay and start all the artillery +shootin' off."</p> + +<p class="indent">Our fellows did not get gay, our artillery +refrained from shooting off, and soon the +enemy ceased his frenzied musketry and +machine gunning and bombing of his own +wire and the harmless mud beyond. So +Peter and Dick and Sacobie left their wet +retreat and crawled for home. They found +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" id="page102"></a>[pg 102]</span> +Sergt. Hammer waiting for them at the hole +in the wire. He had already given the +word to the sentry; and so they made the +passage of the wire and popped into the +trench. Hammer reported to Mr. Scammell, +who was all ready to go out with another +patrol; and then the four went back +to their dugout in the support trench, devoured +a mess of potatoes and onions, drank +a few mugs of tea and retired to their blankets, +mud and putties and all.</p> + +<p class="indent">That was the night of the 3d of December. +In the battalion's summary of +intelligence to the brigade it read like +this:</p> + +<p class="indent">"Night of 23d-24th, our patrols active. +Small patrol of four, under 106254 Sgt. D. +Hammer, encountered ten of the enemy in +front of the German wire. Bombs were +exchanged and six of the enemy were killed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" id="page103"></a>[pg 103]</span> +or wounded. Our patrol returned. 2.30 +<span class="smcap">a. m.</span> Lieut. Scammell placed tube in hostile +wire which exploded successfully. No +casualties."</p> + +<p class="indent">The next day passed quietly, with a pale +glimmer of sunshine now and then, and between +glimmers a flurry of moist snow. +The Germans shouted friendly messages +across No Man's Land and suggested a complete +cessation of hostilities for the day and +the morrow. The Canadians replied that +the next Fritz who cut any "love-your-enemy" +capers on the parapet would get what +he deserved.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Peace on earth!" exclaimed the colonel +of the 26th. "They are the people to ask +for it, the murderers! No, this is a war +with a reason—and we shoot on Christmas +Eve just as quick as on any other +day."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page104" id="page104"></a>[pg 104]</span> +The day passed quietly. Soon after sunset +Mr. Scammell sent two of his scouts +out to watch the gap in the German wire +that he had blown with his explosive tube. +They returned at ten o'clock and reported +that the enemy had made no attempt to +mend the gap. The night was misty and +the enemy's illumination a little above normal.</p> + +<p class="indent">At eleven o'clock Lieut. Scammell went +out himself, accompanied by Lieut. Harvey +and nine men. They reached the gap in +the enemy wire without being discovered, +and there they separated. Mr. Harvey and +two others moved along the front of the +wire to the left, and a sergeant and one man +went to the right. Mr. Scammell and his +five men passed through the wire and extended +a few yards to the left, close under +the hostile parapet.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105"></a>[pg 105]</span> +The officer stood up, close against the +wet sandbags. Dave Hammer, Dick, Peter, +Hiram Sill and Sacobie followed his +example.</p> + +<p class="indent">Then, all together, they tossed six bombs +into the trench. The shattering bangs of +six more blended with the bangs of the +first volley. From right and left along the +trench sounded other explosions.</p> + +<p class="indent">Obeying their officer's instructions, +Scammell's men made the return journey +through the wire and struck out for home +at top speed, trusting to the mist to hide +their movements from the foe.</p> + +<p class="indent">Scammell rid himself of three more +bombs and then followed his party. The +white mist swallowed them. The bombers +ran, stumbled and ran again, eager to reach +the shelter of their own parapet before the +shaken enemy should recover and begin +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" id="page106"></a>[pg 106]</span> +sweeping the ground with his machine +guns.</p> + +<p class="indent">Sacobie and Dick were the first to get into +the trench. Then came Sergt. Hammer +and Lieut. Scammell, followed close by +Lieut. Harvey and his party. By that +time the German machine guns were going +full blast.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Are Sergt. Starkley and Private Sill +here?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Don't see either of 'em, sir," Sergt. +Hammer said in reply to Mr. Scammell's +question.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Perhaps they got here before any of us +and beat it for their dugout," said Mr. +Scammell. "Dick, you go along the trench +and have a look for them. If they aren't +in, come back and report to me. Wait +right here for me, mind you—on <i>this</i> side +of the parapet. Get that?"</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" id="page107"></a>[pg 107]</span> +Then the officer spoke a few hurried +words to Sergt. Hammer, a few to the sentry, +and went over the sandbags like a snake. +Hammer went out of the trench at the same +moment; and Frank Sacobie took one +glance at the sentry and followed Hammer +like a shadow. The mist lay close and +cold and almost as wet as rain over that +puddled waste.</p> + +<p class="indent">Mr. Scammell found Peter and Hiram +about ten yards in front of the gap in our +wire; the private was unhurt and the sergeant +unconscious. Sill had his tall friend +on his back and was crawling laboriously +homeward.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Whiz-bang," he informed Mr. Scammell. +"It got Pete bad, in the leg. I heard +him grunt and soon found him."</p> + +<p class="indent">They regained the trench, picking up +Hammer on the way, and sent Peter out on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" id="page108"></a>[pg 108]</span> +a stretcher. Sacobie came in at their heels; +and no one knew that he had gone out to +the rescue.</p> + +<p class="indent">That happened on Christmas morning. +Before night the doctors cut off what little +had been left below the knee of Peter's right +leg.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" id="page109"></a>[pg 109]</span></p> + +<h2><a name="chV" id="chV"></a>CHAPTER V<br /> +<small>PETER'S ROOM IS AGAIN OCCUPIED</small></h2> + +<p class="indent">LIFE was very dull round Beaver +Dam after Peter had gone away. +John and Constance Starkley and +Flora and Emma felt that every room of +the old house was so full of memories of +the three boys that they could not think of +anything else. John Starkley worked early +and late, but a sense of numbness was always +at his heart. There were times when +he glowed with pride and even when he +flamed with anger, but he was always conscious +of the weight on his heart. His +grief was partly for his wife's grief.</p> + +<p class="indent">He awoke suddenly very early one morning +and heard his wife sobbing quietly. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" id="page110"></a>[pg 110]</span> +That had happened several times before, +and sometimes she had been asleep and at +other times awake. Now she was asleep, +lonely for her boys even in her dreams. +He thought of waking her; and then he reflected +that, if awake, she would hide her +tears, which now perhaps were giving her +some comfort in her dreams.</p> + +<p class="indent">But he could not find his own sleep again. +He lighted a candle, put on a few clothes +and went downstairs to the sitting room. +There were books everywhere, of all sorts, +in that comfortable and shabby room. The +brown wooden clock on the shelf above the +old Franklin stove ticked drearily. It +marked ten minutes past two. Mr. Starkley +dipped into a volume of Charles Lever +and wondered why he had ever laughed at +its impossible anecdotes and pasteboard love +scenes. He tried a report of the New +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" id="page111"></a>[pg 111]</span> +Brunswick Agricultural Society and found +that equally dry. A flyleaf of Treasure Island +held his attention, for on it was penned +in a round hand, "Flora with Dick's love, +Christmas, 1914."</p> + +<p class="indent">"He was only a boy then," murmured +the father. "Less than a year ago he was +only a boy, and now he is a man, knowing +hate and horror and fatigue—a man fighting +for his life. They are all boys! Henry +and Peter—Peter with his grand farm and +fast mares, and his eyes like Connie's."</p> + +<p class="indent">John Starkley got out of his chair, trembling +as if with cold. He walked round +the room, clasping his hands before him. +Then he took the candle from the table and +held it up to the shelf above the stove. +There stood photographs of his boys, in +uniform. He held the little flame close to +each photograph in turn.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" id="page112"></a>[pg 112]</span> +"Three sons," he said. "Three good sons—and +not one here now!"</p> + +<p class="indent">A cautious rat-tat on the glass of one of +the windows brought him out of his reveries +with a start. He went to the window +without a moment's hesitation, held the +candle high and saw a face looking in at +him that he did not recognize for a moment. +It was a frightened and shamed +face. The eyes met his for a fraction +of a second and then shifted their +glance.</p> + +<p class="indent">"James Hammond!" exclaimed Mr. +Starkley. "Of all people!"</p> + +<p class="indent">He set the candle on the table and pushed +up the lower sash of the window, letting in +a gust of cold wind that extinguished the +light behind him. He could see the bulk +of his untimely visitor against the vague +starlight.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" id="page113"></a>[pg 113]</span> +"Come in, James," he said. "By the +window or the door, as you like."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Thank you, Mr. Starkley," said Hammond +in guarded tones. "The window +will do. No strangers about, I suppose? +Just the family?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Only my wife and daughters," replied +the farmer, and turned to relight the candle.</p> + +<p class="indent">Jim Hammond got quickly across the +sill, pulled the sash down, and after it the +green-linen shade. He stood near the wall, +twirling his hat in his hand and shuffling +his feet. When Mr. Starkley turned to +him, he swallowed hard, glanced up and +then as swiftly down again.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Queer time to make a call," said Hammond +at last. "Near three o'clock, Mr. +Starkley. I was glad to see your light at +the window. I was scared to tap on the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" id="page114"></a>[pg 114]</span> +window, at first, for fear you'd send me +away."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Send you away?" queried the farmer. +"Why did you fear that, Jim? You, or any +other friend, are welcome at this house at +any hour of the day or night. But I must +admit that your visit has taken me by surprise. +I thought you were far away from +this peaceful and lonely country, my boy—far +away in Flanders."</p> + +<p class="indent">The blood flushed over Jim's face, and +he stared at the farmer.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You thought I was in Flanders," he said. +"In Flanders—me! So you don't know +about me, Mr. Starkley? Peter didn't +tell you about me? That—that's impossible. +Don't you know—and every one +else?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"I don't know what you are talking +about," replied Mr. Starkley, as he pushed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115"></a>[pg 115]</span> +Jim into an armchair. "I can see that you +are tired, however, and in distress of some +sort. Why are you here, Jim—and why +are you not in uniform? Tell me—and if +I can help you in any way you may be sure +that I will. Rest here and I'll get you +something to eat. I did not notice at first +how bad you look, Jim."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Never mind the food!" muttered young +Hammond. "I'm not hungry, sir—not to +matter, that is. But I'm dog-tired. I've +been hiding about in the woods and in people's +barns for a long time—and walking +miles and miles. I—you say you don't +know—I am a deserter—and worse."</p> + +<p class="indent">"You didn't go to France with your regiment? +You deserted?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"I didn't go anywhere with it. Why +didn't Peter tell you? I came home on +pass—and gave them the slip. I—Peter +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" id="page116"></a>[pg 116]</span> +was sent here to fetch me back. And he +didn't tell you! And you thought I was in +France! I came here because I was +ashamed to go home."</p> + +<p class="indent">He suddenly leaned forward in his chair, +with his elbows on his knees, and covered +his face with his hands. His shoulders +shook. John Starkley continued to gaze at +him in silence for a minute or two, far too +amazed and upset and bewildered to know +what to say or do. He felt a great pity for +the young man, whom he had always known +as a prosperous and self-confident person. +To see him thus—shabby, weary, ashamed +and reduced to tears—was a most pitiful +thing. A deserter! A coward! But even +so, who was he to judge? Might not his +sons have been like this, except for the +mercy of God? Even now any one of his +boys, or all three of them, might be in great +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" id="page117"></a>[pg 117]</span> +need of help and kindness. He went over +and laid a hand gently on his visitor's +shoulder.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I don't know what you have done, +exactly, or anything at all of your reason +for doing it, but you are the son of a friend +of mine and have been a comrade of one of +my sons," he said. "Look upon me as a +friend, Jim. You say you are a deserter. +Well, I heard you. It is bad—but here is +my hand."</p> + +<p class="indent">Jim Hammond raised his head and looked +at Mr. Starkley with a tear-stained face.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Do you mean that?" he asked; and at +the other's nod he grasped the extended +hand.</p> + +<p class="indent">Mr. Starkley asked him no more questions +then, but brought cold ham from the +pantry and cider from the cellar and ate +and drank with him. The visitor's way +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" id="page118"></a>[pg 118]</span> +with the food and drink told its own story +and sharpened the farmer's pity. They +went upstairs on tiptoe.</p> + +<p class="indent">"This is Peter's room," said Mr. Starkley. +"Sleep sound and as long as you +please—till dinner time, if you like. And +don't worry, Jim."</p> + +<p class="indent">The farmer returned to his own room +and found his wife sleeping quietly. He +wakened her and told her of young Hammond's +visit and all that he knew of his +story.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I am glad you took him in," she said. +"We must help him for our boys' sakes, +even if he is a deserter."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Yes," answered Mr. Starkley, "we must +help him through his shame and trouble—and +then he may right the other matter of +his own free will. We'll give him a chance, +anyway."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" id="page119"></a>[pg 119]</span> +It was dinner time when Jim Hammond +awoke from his sleep of physical and nervous +exhaustion. He was puzzled to know +where he was at first, but the memory of +the night's adventure came to him, bringing +both shame and relief. He had no +watch to tell him the time, and there was +no clock in the room. He had brought +nothing with him—not a watch, or a dollar, +or a shirt—nothing except his guilt and +his shame. He flinched at the thought +of meeting Mrs. Starkley and the +girls.</p> + +<p class="indent">A knock sounded on the door, and John +Starkley looked in and wished him good +morning. "If you get up now, Jim, you'll +be in time for dinner," he said. "Here is +hot water and a shaving kit—and a few +duds of Henry's and Peter's you can use if +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" id="page120"></a>[pg 120]</span> +you care to. Set your mind at rest about +the family, Jim. I have told my wife all +that I know myself, and she feels as I do. +As for the girls—well, I will let them know +as much as is necessary. We mean +to help you to get on your feet again, +Jim."</p> + +<p class="indent">The deserter shaved with care, dressed +in his own seedy garments and went slowly +downstairs. He entered the kitchen. Mrs. +Starkley and Flora were there, busy about +the midday dinner. They looked up at him +and smiled as he appeared in the doorway, +but their eyes and Flora's quick change of +color told him of the quality of their pity. +They would feel the same, he knew, for any +broken and drunken tramp in the ditch. +But he was a more despicable thing than +a drunken tramp. He was a deserter, a +coward. They knew that of him, for he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" id="page121"></a>[pg 121]</span> +saw it in their eyes that tried to be so frank +and kind; and that was not the worst of +him. He could not advance from the +threshold or meet their glances again.</p> + +<p class="indent">Mrs. Starkley went to the young man +quickly and, taking his hand in hers, drew +him into the room. Flora came forward +and gave him her hand and said she was +glad to see him; and then Emma came in +from the dining room and said, "Hello, Mr. +Hammond! I hope you can stay here a +long time; we are very lonely."</p> + +<p class="indent">His heart was so shaken by those words +that his tongue was suddenly loosened. +He looked desperately, imploringly round, +and his face went red as fire and then white +as paper.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'll stay—if you'll let me—until I pick +up my nerve again," he said quickly and +unsteadily. "Keep me hidden here from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" id="page122"></a>[pg 122]</span> +Stanley and my folks. I'll work like a nigger. +I am a deserter, as you all know—and +I know that Peter didn't tell you so. I'd +do anything for him, after that. I'm a +runaway soldier, but it wasn't because I +was afraid to fight. I'll show you as soon +as I'm fit—I'll go and fight. It was my +beastly temper and drink that did for me. +I've been near crazy since. But I'll show +you my gratitude some day—if you give me +a chance now to work round to feeling something +like a man again."</p> + +<p class="indent">Flora and Emma were tongue-tied by +the stress of their emotions. They could +only gaze at their guest with tear-dimmed +eyes. But Mrs. Starkley went close to him +and put a hand on each of his drooped +shoulders.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Of course, my dear boy," she said. +"You are only a boy, Jim, a year or two +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" id="page123"></a>[pg 123]</span> +younger than Henry, I think. Trust us to +help you."</p> + +<p class="indent">During dinner they talked about the +country, the war, the weather and the stock—about +almost everything but Jim Hammond's +affairs.</p> + +<p class="indent">"What do you want me to do this afternoon?" +asked Jim when the meal was over. +"I don't know much about farm work, but +I can use an axe and can handle horses."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I was ploughing this morning; and this +may be our last day before the frost sets in +hard," said Mr. Starkley. "What about +hitching Peter's mares to a second plow?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Suit me fine," said Jim.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was a still, bright October afternoon, +with a glow in the sunshine, a smell of fern +and leaf in the air and a veil of blue mist on +the farther hills. Frosts had nipped the +surface of things lightly a score of times +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page124" id="page124"></a>[pg 124]</span> +but had not yet struck deep. Jim Hammond, +in a pair of Peter's long-legged boots, +guided a long plough behind Peter's black +and sorrel mares. The mares pulled steadily, +and the bright plough cut smoothly +through the sod of the old meadow. Over +against the fir woods on the far side of the +meadow John Starkley went back and forth +behind his grays.</p> + +<p class="indent">Jim rested frequently at the end of a furrow, +for he was not in the pink of condition. +He noticed, for the first time in his +life, the faint perfume of the turned loam +and torn grass roots. He liked it. His +furrows, a little uneven at first, became +straighter and more even until they were +soon almost perfect.</p> + +<p class="indent">As the red sun was sinking toward the +western forests, Emma appeared, climbing +over the rail fence from a grove of young +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page125" id="page125"></a>[pg 125]</span> +red maples. She carried something under +one arm. She waved a hand to her father +but came straight to Jim. He stopped the +mares midway the furrow.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I made these gingernuts myself," said +Emma, holding out an uncovered tin box +to him. "See, they are still hot. Have +some."</p> + +<p class="indent">He accepted two and found them very +good. The girl looked over his work admiringly +and told him she had never seen +straighter furrows except a few of Peter's +ploughing. Then she warned him that in +half an hour she would blow a horn for +him to stop and went across to her father +with what was left of the gingernuts. +Hammond went on unwinding the old sod +into straight furrows until the horn blew +from the house.</p> + +<p class="indent">After supper he played cribbage with Mr. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page126" id="page126"></a>[pg 126]</span> +Starkley; and that night he slept soundly +and without dreaming. He awoke early +enough to do his share of the feeding and +milking before breakfast. The ploughs +worked again that day, but the next night +brought a frost that held tight.</p> + +<p class="indent">The days went by peacefully for Jim +Hammond. He never went on the highway +or away from Beaver Dam and Peter's +place. Sometimes, when people came to +the house, he sat by himself in his room +upstairs. He did his share of all the barn +work, twice a week helped Mrs. Starkley +and the girls with the churning and cut +cordwood and fence rails every day. He +never talked much, but at times his manner +was almost cheerful. And so the days +passed and October ran into November. +Snow came and letters from France and +England. The family treated him like one +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" id="page127"></a>[pg 127]</span> +of themselves, with never a question to embarrass +him or a word to hurt him. He +heard news of his family occasionally, but +never tried to see them.</p> + +<p class="indent">"They think I am somewhere in the +States, hiding—or that's what father +thinks," he said to Flora. "Some day I'll +write to mother—from France."</p> + +<p class="indent">December came and Christmas. Jim +kept house that day while the others drove +to Stanley and attended the Christmas service +in the church on the top of the long +hill. A week later a man in a coonskin +coat drove up to the kitchen door. Jim +recognized him through the window as the +postmaster of Stanley and retired up the +back stairs. John Starkley, who had +just come in from the barns, opened the +door.</p> + +<p class="indent">"A cablegram for you, Mr. Starkley," +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" id="page128"></a>[pg 128]</span> +said the postmaster. "It was wired +through from Fredericton."</p> + +<p class="indent">He held out the thin envelope. Mr. +Starkley stared at it, but did not move. +His eyes narrowed, and his face looked +suddenly old.</p> + +<p class="indent">"No call to be afraid of it," said the +postmaster, who was also the telegraph +operator. "I received it and know what's +in it."</p> + +<p class="indent">Mr. Starkley took it then and tore it +open.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Peter wounded. Doing fine. Dick +Starkley" is what he read. He sighed with +relief and called to Mrs. Starkley and the +girls. Then he invited the man from Stanley +in to dinner, saying he would see to the +horse in a minute.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You can't expect much better news than +that from men in France," John Starkley +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" id="page129"></a>[pg 129]</span> +said to his wife. "Wounded and doing +fine—why, that's better than no news, by a +long shot. He will be safe out of the line +now for weeks, perhaps for months. Perhaps +he will even get to England. He is +safe at this very minute, anyway."</p> + +<p class="indent">He excused himself, went upstairs and +told Jim Hammond the news.</p> + +<p class="indent">"That is twice for Peter already," he +said, "once right at home and once in +Flanders. If this one isn't any worse than +the first, we have nothing to worry about."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I hope it is just bad enough to give him +a good long rest," said Jim in a low voice.</p> + +<p class="indent">The postmaster stayed to dinner, and +Emma smuggled roast beef and pudding up +to Jim in his bedroom. No sooner had +that visitor gone than another drove up. +This other was Vivia Hammond; and once +more Jim retired to his room. Vivia had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" id="page130"></a>[pg 130]</span> +heard of the cablegram, but nothing of its +import. Her face was white with anxiety.</p> + +<p class="indent">"What is it?" she cried. "The cable—what +is it about?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Peter is right as rain—wounded but doing +fine," said John.</p> + +<p class="indent">Vivia cried and then laughed.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I love Peter, and I don't care who knows +it!" she exclaimed. "I hope he has lost +a leg, so they'll have to send him home. +That sounds dreadful—but I love him so—and +what does a leg matter?" She turned +to Mrs. Starkley. "Did he ever tell you +he loved me?" she asked.</p> + +<p class="indent">"He didn't have to tell us," answered +Mrs. Starkley, smiling.</p> + +<p class="indent">"He does! He does!" exclaimed the +girl, and then began to cry again; and Jim, +imprisoned upstairs, wished she would go +home.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" id="page131"></a>[pg 131]</span></p> + +<h2><a name="chVI" id="chVI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /> +<small>DAVE HAMMER GETS HIS COMMISSION</small></h2> + +<p class="indent">BY the middle of January, 1916, Peter +was in London again, now minus +one leg but otherwise in the pink of +condition. Davenport, with his crutch and +stick and shadowing valet, visited him daily +in hospital. He and Peter wrote letters to +Beaver Dam—and Peter wrote a dozen to +Stanley.</p> + +<p class="indent">Capt. Starkley-Davenport had power. +Warbroken and propped between his crutch +and stick, still he was powerful. A spirit +big enough to animate three strong men +glowed in his weak body, and he went after +the medical officers, nursing sisters and +V. A. D.'s of that hospital like a lieutenant +general looking for trouble. He saw that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" id="page132"></a>[pg 132]</span> +Peter received every attention, and then that +every other man in the hospital received the +same—and yet he was as polite as your +maiden aunt. Several medical officers, including +a colonel, jumped on him—figuratively +speaking—only to jump back again +as if they had landed on spikes.</p> + +<p class="indent">As soon as he regarded Peter as fit to be +moved he took him to his own house. There +the queer servants waited on Peter day and +night in order of seniority. They addressed +him as "Sergt. Peter, sir."</p> + +<p class="indent">Over in Flanders things had bumped and +smashed along much as usual since Christmas +morning. Mr. Scammell had read his +promotion in orders and the London Gazette, +had put up his third star and had +gone to brigade as staff captain, Intelligence; +and David Hammer, with the acting +rank of sergeant major, carried on in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" id="page133"></a>[pg 133]</span> +command of the battalion scouts. Hiram +Sill had been awarded the Distinguished +Conduct Medal for his work on Christmas +morning and the two chevrons of a corporal +for his work in general. A proud man +was Corp. Sill, with that ribbon on his +chest.</p> + +<p class="indent">The changes and chances of war had +also touched Dick Starkley and Frank Sacobie. +Lieut. Smith had persuaded Dick to +leave the scouts and become his platoon sergeant; +Sacobie was made an acting sergeant—and +the night of that very day, while +he was displaying his new chevrons in No +Man's Land, he received a wound in the +neck that put him out of the line for two +weeks.</p> + +<p class="indent">Henry Starkley—a captain now—managed +to visit the battalion about twice a +month. It was in the fire trench that he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" id="page134"></a>[pg 134]</span> +found Dick one mild and sunny morning +of the last week of February. The brothers +grinned affectionately and shook hands.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Peter has sailed for home, wooden leg +and all," said Henry. "I got a letter yesterday +from Jack Davenport. Except for the +sneaking Hun submarines, Peter is fairly +safe now."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I hope he makes the farm," said Dick. +"He was homesick for it every minute and +working out crop rotations on the backs of +letters every night, in the line and out—except +when he was fighting."</p> + +<p class="indent">"There was something about you in Jack's +letter. He says that offer still stands, and +he seems as anxious as ever about it."</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick sat down on the fire step, thrust out +his muddy feet on the duck boards and +gazed at them. He scratched himself +meditatively in several places.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" id="page135"></a>[pg 135]</span> +"I'd like fine to be an officer," he said +at last. "Almost any one would. But I +don't want to leave this bunch just now. +Jack's crowd will want officers in six months +just as much as now—maybe more; and if +I'm lucky—still in fighting shape six months +from now—I'll be better able to handle +the job."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'll write that to Jack," said Henry. +"He will understand—and your platoon +commander will be pleased. He and the +adjutant talked to me to-day as if something +were coming to you—a D. C. M., I think. +What happened to your first adjutant, Capt. +Long, by the way?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Long's gone west," replied Dick briefly.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'm sorry to hear that. Shell get +him?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"No, sniper. He took one chance too +many."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page136" id="page136"></a>[pg 136]</span> +"I heard at the brigade on my way in that +your friend, Dave Hammer, has his commission. +I wonder if they have told him +yet."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Good! Let's go along and tell him. +He is sleeping to-day."</p> + +<p class="indent">They found Dave in his little dugout, +with the mud of last night's expedition +still caked on his person from heel to head. +His blankets were cast aside, and he lay +flat on his back and snored. His snores had +evidently driven the proprietors of the +other bunks out of that confined place, for +he was alone. His muddy hands clasped +and unclasped. He ceased his snoring suddenly +and gabbled something very quickly +and thickly in which only the word "wire" +was recognizable. Then he jerked up one +leg almost to his chin and shot it straight +again with terrific force.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page137" id="page137"></a>[pg 137]</span> +"He is fighting in his dreams, just the +way my old dog Snap used to," said Dick. +"We may as well wake him up, for he isn't +resting."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Go to it—and welcome," said Henry. +"It's an infantry job."</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick stooped and cried, "Hello, Dave!" +but the sleeper only twitched an arm. +"Wake up!" roared Dick. "Wake up and +go to sleep right!" The sleeper closed his +mouth for a second but did not open his +eyes. He groaned, muttered something +about too much light and began to snore +again. Dick put a hand on his shoulder—and +in the same breath of time he was +gripped at wrist and throat with fingers +like iron. Grasping the hand at his throat, +Dick pulled a couple of fingers clear. +Then the sleeper closed his mouth again and +opened his eyes wide.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page138" id="page138"></a>[pg 138]</span> +"Oh, it's you, Dick!" he said. "Sorry. +Must have been dreaming."</p> + +<p class="indent">He sat up and shook hands with Henry. +When he heard of his promotion he blushed +and got out of his bunk.</p> + +<p class="indent">"That's a bit of cheering news," he said +"I'll have a wash on the strength of that, +and something to eat. Wish we were out, +and I'd give a little party. Wonder if I +can raise a set of stars to wear to-night, +just for luck."</p> + +<p class="indent">Henry went away half an hour later, and +Dick returned to the fire trench. Capt. +Keen, the adjutant, came looking for Hammer, +found him still at his toilet and +congratulated him heartily on his promotion.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Come along and feed with me, if you +have had enough sleep," said the adjutant. +"The colonel wants to see you. He had a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" id="page139"></a>[pg 139]</span> +talk with you yesterday, didn't he—about +to-night's job?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Yes, sir; and it will be a fine job, if the +weather is just right. Looks now as if it +might be too clear, but we'll know by sundown. +I was dreaming about it a while +ago. We were in, and I had a big sentry +by the neck when Dick Starkley woke me +up. I had grabbed Dick."</p> + +<p class="indent">"The colonel is right," said Capt. Keen. +"You're working too hard, Hammer, and +you're beginning to show it; your eyes look +like the mischief. This fighting in your +sleep is a bad sign."</p> + +<p class="indent">"The whole army could do with a rest, +for that matter," replied Hammer, "but +who would go on with the work? What +I am worrying about now is rank +badges. I'd like to doll up a bit for to-night."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" id="page140"></a>[pg 140]</span> +They went back to the sandbagged cellar +under the broken farmhouse that served +as headquarters for whatever battalion held +that part of the line. On their way they +had borrowed an old jacket with two stars +on each sleeve from Lieut. Smith; and in +that garment Dave Hammer appeared at +the midday meal. The colonel, the medical +officer, the padre and the quartermaster +were there. They congratulated Dave on +his promotion, and the colonel placed him +at his right hand at the table on an upended +biscuit box.</p> + +<p class="indent">The fare consisted of roast beef and +boiled potatoes, a serviceable apple pie and +coffee. The conversation was of a general +character until after the attack on the pie—an +attack that was driven to complete success +only by the padre, who prided himself +on the muscular development of his jaws. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" id="page141"></a>[pg 141]</span> +The commanding officer, somewhat daunted +in spirit by the pastry, looked closely at the +lieutenant.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You need a rest, Hammer," he said. +"Keen, didn't I tell you yesterday that +Hammer must take a rest? Doc, just slant +an eye at this young officer and give me +your opinion. Doesn't he look like all-get-out?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Looks like get-out-of-the-front-line to +me, sir," said the medical officer. "A +couple of weeks back would set him on +his feet. You say the word, sir, and I'll +send him back this very day."</p> + +<p class="indent">"But the show!" exclaimed Hammer. +"I must go out to-night, sir!"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Hammer is the only officer with his +party, sir," said Capt. Keen to the colonel. +"As you know, sir, we held the organization +down this time to only one officer with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" id="page142"></a>[pg 142]</span> +each of our four parties—because officers +are not very plentiful with us just +now."</p> + +<p class="indent">"That's the trouble!" exclaimed the colonel. +"They hem and haw and chew the +rag over our recommendations for commissions +and keep sending us green officers +from England who don't know the fine +points of the game. So here we are forced +to let Hammer go out to-night, when he +should be in his blankets. But back he +goes to-morrow!"</p> + +<p class="indent">Dave had intended to sleep that afternoon, +but the excitement caused by the news +of his promotion made it impossible. He +who had never missed a minute's slumber +through fear of death was set fluttering at +heart and nerves by the two worsted "pips" +on each sleeve of his borrowed jacket. +The coat was borrowed—but the right to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page143" id="page143"></a>[pg 143]</span> +wear the stars was his, his very own, earned +in Flanders. He toured the trenches—fire, +communication and support—feeling that +his stars were as big as pie plates.</p> + +<p class="indent">Sentries, whose bayonet-tipped rifles +leaned against the parapet, saluted and +then grasped his hand. Subalterns and +captains hailed him as a brother; and so +did sergeants, with a "sir" or two thrown +in. As Dave passed on his embarrassed +but triumphant way down the trench his +heart pounded as no peril of war had ever +set it pounding. No emperor had ever +known greater ache and uplift of glory than +this grand conflagration in the heart and +brain of Lieut. David Hammer, Canadian +Infantry.</p> + +<p class="indent">He visited his scouts; and they seemed as +pleased at his "pips" as if each one of them +had got leave to London. Even Sergt. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page144" id="page144"></a>[pg 144]</span> +Frank Sacobie's dark and calm visage +showed flickers of emotion. Corp. Hiram +Sill, D. C. M., who visioned everything in +a large and glowing style, saw in his mind's +eye the King in Buckingham Palace agreeing +with some mighty general, all red and +gold and ribbons, that this heroic and deserving +young man should certainly be +granted a commission for the fine work he +was doing with the distinguished scouts of +that very fine regiment.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I haven't a doubt that was the way of +it," said Old Psychology. "People with +jobs like that are trained from infancy to +grasp details; and I bet King George has +the name of everyone of us on the tip of his +tongue. You can bet your hat he isn't one +to give away Distinguished Conduct Medals +without knowing what he is about."</p> + +<p class="indent">Hiram joined in the laughter that followed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page145" id="page145"></a>[pg 145]</span> +his inspiring statements; not that he +thought he had said anything to laugh at, +but merely to be sociable.</p> + +<p class="indent">That "show" was to be a big one—a brigade +affair with artillery coöperation. The +battalion on the right was to send out two +parties, one to bomb the opposite trench +and the other to capture and demolish a +hostile sap head—and together to raise Old +Ned in general and so hold as much of the +enemy's attention as possible from the main +event. The battalion on the left was to +put on an exhibition of rifle, machine-gun +and trench-mortar fire that would assuredly +keep the garrison opposite occupied with +its own affairs.</p> + +<p class="indent">As for the artillery, it had already worked +through two thirds of its elaborate programme. +Four nights ago it had put on a +shoot at two points in the hostile wire and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page146" id="page146"></a>[pg 146]</span> +front line, three hundred yards apart, short +but hot. Then it had lifted to the support +and reserve trenches. Three nights ago it +had done much the same things, but not at +the same hours, and on a wider frontage. +The enemy, sure of being raided, had +turned on his lights and his machine guns +on both occasions—on nothing. He could +do nothing then toward repairing his wire, +for after our guns had churned up his entanglements +our machine guns played upon +the scene and kept him behind his parapet. +The batteries had been quiet two nights ago, +and Fritz, expecting a raid in force, had +lost his nerve entirely. Our eighteen +pounders had lashed him at noon the next +day, and again at sunset and again at eleven +o'clock; and so he had sat up all night +again with his nerves.</p> + +<p class="indent">At four o'clock in the afternoon of this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page147" id="page147"></a>[pg 147]</span> +day of Dave Hammer's promotion the batteries +went at it again, smashing wire and +parapets with field guns and shooting up +registered targets farther back with heavier +metal. When hostile batteries retaliated, +we did counter-battery work with such +energy and skill that we soon had the +last word in the argument. The deeds +of the gunners put the infantry in high +spirits.</p> + +<p class="indent">The afternoon grew misty; shortly after +five o'clock there was a shower. At half +past seven scouts went out from the 26th +and the battalion on the right and, returning, +reported that the wire was nicely ripped +and chewed. At eight the battalion on the +left put on a formidable trench-mortar +shoot, which quite upset the nerve-torn +enemy. Then all was at rest on that particular +piece of the western front—except +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page148" id="page148"></a>[pg 148]</span> +for the German illumination—until half +past twelve.</p> + +<p class="indent">Half past twelve was Zero Hour. A +misty rain was seeping down from a slate-gray +sky. Six lieutenants in the fire trench +of two battalions took their eyes from the +dials of their wrist watches, said "time" to +their sergeants and went over, with their +men at their heels and elbows. The two +larger parties from our battalion were to +get into the opposite trench side by side, +there separate one to the left and one to the +right, do what they could in seven minutes +or until recalled, then get out and run for +home with their casualties—if any. They +were to pass their prisoners out as they collared +them. The smaller parties were +made up of riflemen, stretcher bearers and +escorts for the prisoners. The raiding +parties were commanded by Mr. Hammer, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page149" id="page149"></a>[pg 149]</span> +with Sergt. Sacobie second in command, +and Mr. Smith, with Sergt. Richard Starkley +second in command. Corp. Hiram Sill +was in Hammer's crowd.</p> + +<p class="indent">Captain Scammell from brigade, the +colonel and the adjutant stood in the trench +at the point of exit. Suddenly they heard +the dry, smashing reports of grenades +through the chatter of machine-gun fire on +the left. The bombs went fast and furious, +punctuated by the crack of rifles and bursts +of pistol fire. S. O. S. rockets went up from +the German positions; and, as if in answer +to those signals, our batteries laid a heavy +barrage on and just in rear of the enemy's +support trenches. The colonel flashed a +light on his wrist.</p> + +<p class="indent">"They have been in four minutes," he +said.</p> + +<p class="indent">At that moment a muddy figure with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page150" id="page150"></a>[pg 150]</span> +blackened face and hands and a slung rifle +on his back scrambled into the trench, +turned and pulled something over the +parapet that sprawled at the colonel's +feet.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Here's one of them, sir; and there's more +coming," said the man of mud. "Ah! +Here's another. Boost him over, you fellers."</p> + +<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 501px;"> +<a name="i167" id="i167"></a> +<img class="border" src="images/i167.jpg" width="501" height="700" alt="" /> +<div class="caption"> +<p class="center">"'HERE'S ONE OF THEM, SIR; AND THERE'S MORE +COMING,' SAID THE MAN OF MUD."</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="indent">Into the trench tumbled another Fritz, +and then a third, and then a Canadian, and +then two more prisoners and the third +Canadian.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Five," said the last of the escort. "Us +three started for home with eight, but something +hit the rest of 'em—T-M bomb, I +reckon."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Sure it was," said the Canadian who had +arrived first. "Don't I know? I got a +chunk of it in my leg." He stooped and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page151" id="page151"></a>[pg 151]</span> +fumbled at the calf of his right leg. The +adjutant turned a light on him, and the man +extended his hand, dripping with blood.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You beat it for the M. O., my lad," +said the colonel.</p> + +<p class="indent">Five more prisoners came in under a +guard of two; and then six more of the +raiders arrived, two of whom were carrying +Lieut. Smith. The lieutenant's head +was bandaged roughly, and the dressing +was already soaked with blood.</p> + +<p class="indent">"We did them in, sir," he said thickly to +the colonel. "Caught them in bunches—and +bombed three dugouts."</p> + +<p class="indent">He was carried away, still muttering of +the fight. By that time the majority of the +other parties were in. Several of the men +were wounded—and they had brought their +dead with them, three in number. The +Germans had turned their trench mortars +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page152" id="page152"></a>[pg 152]</span> +on their own front line from their support +trenches.</p> + +<p class="indent">"They're not all in yet," said Capt. Keen. +"Hammer isn't in."</p> + +<p class="indent">Just then Dick Starkley slid into the +trench.</p> + +<p class="indent">"That you, Dick? Did you see Mr. +Hammer? Or Frank Sacobie? Or Bruce +McDonald?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"I have McDonald—but some one's got +to help me lift him over," said Dick breathlessly. +"Heavy as a horse—and hit pretty +bad!"</p> + +<p class="indent">Two men immediately slipped over the +top and hoisted big McDonald into the +trench. Hiram Sill put a hand on Dick's +shoulder.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Dave Hammer and Sacobie," he whispered, +"are still out. Hadn't we better—"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Right," said Dick. "Come on out." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page153" id="page153"></a>[pg 153]</span> +He turned to Capt. Scammell. "Please +don't let the guns shorten for a minute or +two, sir; Sill and I have to go out again."</p> + +<p class="indent">Without waiting for an answer they +whipped over the sandbags. Hiram was +back in two minutes. He turned on the +fire step and received something that Dick +and Frank Sacobie lifted over to him. It +was Dave Hammer, unconscious and breathing +hoarsely, with his eyes shut, his borrowed +tunic drenched with mud and blood +and one of his bestarred sleeves shot away. +Capt. Scammell swayed against the colonel +and, for a second, put his hand to his +eyes.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Steady, lad, steady," said the colonel in +a queer, cracked voice. "Keen, tell the +guns to drop on their front line with all +they've got—and then some."</p> + +<p class="indent">To the whining and screeching of our +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page154" id="page154"></a>[pg 154]</span> +shells driving low overhead and the tumultuous +chorus of their exploding, passed the +undismayed soul of Lieut. David Hammer +of the Canadian Infantry.</p> + +<p class="indent">Heedless of the coming and going of the +shells and the quaking of the parapet, Sacobie +sat on the fire step with his hands between +his knees and stared fixedly at nothing; +but Hiram Sill and young Dick Starkley +wept without thought of concealment, +and their tears washed white furrows down +their blackened faces.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page155" id="page155"></a>[pg 155]</span></p> + +<h2><a name="chVII" id="chVII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /> +<small>PETER WRITES A LETTER</small></h2> + +<p class="indent">IN March, 1916, Sergt. Peter Starkley +got back to his own country, bigger +in the chest and an inch taller than +when he had gone away. He walked a little +stiffly on his right foot, it is true—but what +did that matter? His letters to the people +at home had, by intention, given them only +a vague idea of the possible date of his arrival. +They knew that he was coming, that +he was well, and that his new leg was such +a masterpiece of construction that he had +danced on it in London on two occasions. +Otherwise he was unannounced.</p> + +<p class="indent">He went to the town of Stanley first +and left his baggage in the freight shed +at the siding. With his haversack on his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page156" id="page156"></a>[pg 156]</span> +shoulder and a stout stick in his right hand, +he set out along the white and slippery +road. Before he got to the bridge a two-horse +sled overtook him, and the driver, an +elderly man whom he did not know, invited +him to climb on. Peter accepted the +invitation with all the agility at his command.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You step a mite lame on your right leg," +said the driver.</p> + +<p class="indent">"That's so," replied Peter, smiling.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Been soldierin', hey? See any fight-in'?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Yes, I've been in Flanders."</p> + +<p class="indent">"That so? I've got a boy in the war. +Smart boy, too. They give him a job right +in England. He wears spurs to his boots, +he does; and it ain't everyone kin wear them +spurs, he writes me. This here war ain't +all in Flanders. We had some shootin' +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" id="page157"></a>[pg 157]</span> +round here about a year back out Pike's Settlement +way. A young feller in soldier uniform +was drivin' along, and some one shot +at him from the woods. That's what <i>he</i> +said, but my boy—that was afore he went +to the war—says like enough he shot himself +so's to git out of goin'. He's a smart +lad—that's why they give him a job in England. +Army Service Corps, he is—so I +reckon maybe he's right about that feller +shootin' himself."</p> + +<p class="indent">"What's his name?" asked Peter quietly.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Starkley. Peter Starkley from Beaver +Dam."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'm asking the name of that smart son +of yours."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Gus Todder's his name—Gus Todder, +junior. Maybe you know him," was the +reply.</p> + +<p class="indent">"No, but I've got his number," said Peter. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page158" id="page158"></a>[pg 158]</span> +"You tell him so in the next letter you write +him. Tell him that Sergt. Peter Starkley +of the 26th Canadian Infantry Battalion will +be glad to see him when he comes home; +tell him not to cut himself on those spurs +of his in the meantime; and you'd better +advise him to warn <i>his father</i> not to shoot +his mouth off in future to military men +about things he is ignorant of. Here's +where I get off. Thanks for the lift."</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter left the sled, but turned at the +other's voice and stood looking back at him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I didn't get the hang of all that you was +sayin'," said Todder. He was plainly disconcerted.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Never mind; your son will catch the +drift of it," replied Peter. "I am too happy +about getting home to be fussy about little +things, but don't chat quite so freely with +every returned infantryman you see about +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" id="page159"></a>[pg 159]</span> +your son's smartness. You call it smartness—but +the fellows up where I left my +right leg have another name for it."</p> + +<p class="indent">Opening the white gate, he went up the +deep and narrow path between snow banks +to the white house. At the top of the short +flight of steps that led to the winter porch +that inclosed the front door, he looked over +his shoulder and saw Todder still staring +at him. Peter grinned and waved his +hand, then opened the door of the porch.</p> + +<p class="indent">As he closed the door behind him, the +house door opened wide before him. +Vivia stood on the threshold. She stared +at him with her eyes very round and her +lips parted, but she did not move or speak. +She held her slim hands clasped before her—clasped +so tight that the knuckles were +colorless. Her small face, which had been +as pale as her clasped hands at the first +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page160" id="page160"></a>[pg 160]</span> +glimpse, turned suddenly as red as a rose; +and her eyes, which had been very bright +even to their wonderful depths, were +dimmed suddenly with a shimmer of tears. +And for a long time—for ten full seconds, +it may have been—Peter also stood motionless +and stared. The heavy stick slipped +from his fingers and fell with a clatter on +the floor of the porch. He stepped forward +then and enfolded her in his khaki-clad +arms, safe and sure against the big +brass buttons of his greatcoat; and just then +the door of the porch opened, and Mr. +Todder said:</p> + +<p class="indent">"I ain't got the hang of yer remarks yet, +young feller."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Chase yourself away home," replied +Peter, without turning his head; and there +was something in the tone of his voice that +caused Mr. Todder to withdraw his head +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" id="page161"></a>[pg 161]</span> +from the porch and to retire, muttering, to +his sled. Vivia had not paid the slightest +heed to the interruption. She drew Peter +into the hall.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I was afraid," she whispered. "I didn't +know how much they had hurt you, Peter—but +I wasn't afraid of that. I should love +you just as much if they had crippled you,—I +am so selfish in my love, Peter,—but I +was afraid, at first, that I might see a +change in your eyes."</p> + +<p class="indent">"There couldn't be a change in my eyes +when I look at you, unless I were blind," +said Peter. "Even if I were blind, I guess +I could see you. But I am the same as I +was, inside and out—all except a bit of +a patent leg."</p> + +<p class="indent">Just then Mrs. Hammond made her discreet +appearance, expressed her joy and surprise +at the sight of Peter and ventured a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162" id="page162"></a>[pg 162]</span> +motherly kiss. Mr. Hammond came in +from the store half an hour later and welcomed +Peter cordially. The man had lost +weight, and his face was grim. He got +Peter to himself for a few minutes just before +supper.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Jim is still on the other side the border +somewhere, I guess," he said, "though I +haven't heard from him for months. I've +kept the shooting business quiet, Peter—and +even about his deserting; but I had to tell +his mother and Vivia that he wasn't any +good as a soldier and had gone away. I +made up some kind of story about it. +Other people think he's in France, I guess—even +your folks at Beaver Dam. But +what do you hear of Pat? He isn't much +of a hand at writing letters, but was well +when he wrote last to his mother."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I didn't see him over there, but Henry +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page163" id="page163"></a>[pg 163]</span> +ran across him and said that he is doing +fine work. He's got his third pip and is +attached to headquarters of one of the brigades +of the First Division as a learner. +He has been wounded once, I believe, but +very slightly."</p> + +<p class="indent">"And I used to think that Pat wasn't +much good—too easy-going and loose-footed," +said Mr. Hammond bitterly. "My +idea of a man was a storekeeper. Well, +I think of him now, and I stick out my +chest—and then I remember Jim, and my +chest caves in again."</p> + +<p class="indent">They were interrupted then by Vivia; so +nothing more was said about the deserter. +After supper Peter had to prove to the +family that he could dance on his new leg.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'll hitch the grays to the pung," said +Mr. Hammond when about eight o'clock +Peter got ready to go. "It's a fine night, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page164" id="page164"></a>[pg 164]</span> +and the roads are a marvel. I'll drive you +home."</p> + +<p class="indent">"And I am going too," said Vivia.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dry maple sticks burned on the hearth +of the big Franklin stove in the sitting room +of Beaver Dam. Flora sat at the big table +writing a letter to Dick; John Starkley and +Jim Hammond played checkers; and Mrs. +Starkley nodded in a chair by the fire. +Emma had gone to bed. John Starkley had +his hand raised and hovering for a master +move when a jangle of bells burst suddenly +upon their ears. Flora darted to a window, +and the farmer hastened to the front +door; but by the time Flora had drawn back +the curtains and her father had opened the +door Jim Hammond was upstairs and in his +room.</p> + +<p class="indent">Jim did not light the candle that stood +on the window sill at the head of his bed. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" id="page165"></a>[pg 165]</span> +He closed the door behind him. The +blind was up; starshine from the world of +white and purple and silver without sifted +faintly into the little room. He stood for +a minute in the middle of the floor, listening +to the broken and muffled sounds of +talk and laughter from the lower hall. He +heard a trill of Vivia's laughter. What +had brought Vivia out again, he wondered. +News of Peter, beyond a doubt; and +good news, to judge by the sounds. He +seated himself cautiously on the edge of +the bed.</p> + +<p class="indent">Now he heard his father's voice. Yes—and +John Starkley was laughing. There +was another man's voice, but he could hear +only a low note of it now and then in the +confused, happy babble of sound. A door +shut—and then he could not hear anything. +He wondered who the third man was and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page166" id="page166"></a>[pg 166]</span> +decided that he probably was some one +from the village who had just arrived home +and who had brought messages from Peter. +Perhaps, he thought, Peter was even then +on his way from England.</p> + +<p class="indent">Jim sat there with the faint shine of the +stars falling soft on the rag carpet at his +feet and thought what wonderful people +the Starkleys were. They had taken him +in and treated him like one of the family—and +like a white man. Now that Peter +was coming home and would be able to +help with the work, he would go away and +show John Starkley that he had found his +courage and his manhood. He had made +his plans in a general way weeks before. +He would go to another province and enlist +in the artillery or in the infantry under +an assumed name; if he "made good," or +got killed, John Starkley would tell all the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" id="page167"></a>[pg 167]</span> +good he could of him to his family in Stanley. +Already he felt lonely, a dreary chill +of homesickness, at the thought of leaving +Beaver Dam.</p> + +<p class="indent">A door opened and closed downstairs, +but Jim Hammond was too busy with his +thoughts and high resolves to hear the faint +sounds. He even did not hear the feet on +the carpeted stairs—and a hand was on the +latch of the door before he knew that some +one was about to enter the room. He sat +rigid and stared at the door.</p> + +<p class="indent">The door opened and some one entered +who bulked large and tall in the pale half +gloom of the room. The visitor halted and +turned his face toward the bed.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Who's there?" he asked; and Jim could +see the shoulders lower and advance a +little and the whole figure become tense as +if for attack.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" id="page168"></a>[pg 168]</span> +"It's me, Peter!" whispered Jim sharply +"Shut the door quick!"</p> + +<p class="indent">"You! You, Jim Hammond!" said +Peter in a voice of amazement and anger. +"What the mischief are you doing here?" +Without turning his face from the bed he +shut the door behind him with his heel. +"Light the candle and pull down the shade. +Let me see you."</p> + +<p class="indent">Jim got to his feet and reached for the +shade, but Peter spoke before he touched it.</p> + +<p class="indent">"No! The candle first!" exclaimed +Peter, with an edge to his voice. "I don't +trust you in the dark any more than I trust +you in the woods."</p> + +<p class="indent">Hammond struck a match and lit the +candle, then drew down the shade and +turned with his back to the window. His +face was pale. "I didn't figure on your +getting home so soon," he said in an unsteady +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" id="page169"></a>[pg 169]</span> +voice. "I didn't intend to be +here. I thought I'd be gone before you +came."</p> + +<p class="indent">"What are you doing here, anyway?" +demanded Peter. "What's the game? +Sitting in my room, on my bed, quite at +home, by thunder! And your father thinks +you are in the States. Does my father +know you are here?"</p> + +<p class="indent">Jim smiled faintly. "Yes, he knows—and +all your folks know. I've been here +since about the middle of October, working, +and sleeping in this room every night. My +people don't know where I am—but when +I get to France you can tell them. Your +father doesn't know that it was I who fired +that shot—and when I found you hadn't +told him that, or even that I was a deserter, +I felt it was up to me to do my best for +you while you were away. So I've worked +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" id="page170"></a>[pg 170]</span> +hard and been happy here; and I'll be sorry +to go away—but I must go now that you're +home again. Don't tell my people I'm +here, Peter."</p> + +<p class="indent">"You have been living here ever since +the middle of October, working here, and +your own father and mother don't know +where you are?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Your people are the only ones who +know."</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter eyed him in silence for a minute.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Why did you shoot me, Jim?" he asked +more gently.</p> + +<p class="indent">"How do I know?" exclaimed Hammond. +"I was drinking; I was just about +mad with drink. I liked you well enough, +Peter,—I didn't want to kill you,—but the +devil was in me. It was drink made me +act so bad in St. John; it was drink made +me desert; it was drink that came near making +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" id="page171"></a>[pg 171]</span> +a murderer of me. That's the truth, +Peter—and now I wish you'd go downstairs, +for I don't want my father or Vivia +to find me here—or to know anything about +me till I'm in France."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Shall I find you here when I come +back?" asked Peter.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'll come downstairs as soon as they +go," said Hammond.</p> + +<p class="indent">Peter was about to leave the room when +he suddenly remembered the errand that +had brought him away from the company +downstairs. It was a photograph of himself +taken at the age of five years. Vivia +had heard of it and asked for it; and before +either of his parents or Flora had been +able to think of a way of stopping him he +had started upstairs for it. Now he found +it on the top of a shelf of old books and +wiped off the dust on his sleeve.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" id="page172"></a>[pg 172]</span> +"Vivia wants it," he said, smiling self-consciously.</p> + +<p class="indent">He found Flora waiting at the head of +the stairs for him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"It's all right; I've had a talk with him," +he whispered, and when he reached the sitting +room he met the anxious glances of +his parents with a smile and nod that set +their immediate anxieties at rest.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was past midnight when Vivia and her +father drove away. Then Jim came downstairs, +and Peter shook hands with him in +the most natural way in the world.</p> + +<p class="indent">"When we met in my bedroom we were +both too astonished to shake hands," explained +Peter.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You must sleep in Dick's room now, +Peter," said Mrs. Starkley.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Only for one night," said Jim, trying +to smile but making a poor job of it. "I'll +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" id="page173"></a>[pg 173]</span> +be off to-morrow, now that Peter is home +again—just as I planned all along, you +know. I—it isn't the going back to the +army I mind; it is—leaving you people."</p> + +<p class="indent">He smiled more desperately than ever.</p> + +<p class="indent">Mrs. Starkley and Flora did not dare +trust their voices to reply. John Starkley +laid a hand on Jim's shoulder and said, +"Go when it suits you, Jim, and come back +when it suits you—and we shall miss you +when you are away, remember that."</p> + +<p class="indent">The three men sat up for another hour, +talking of Peter's experiences and Jim's +plans. They went upstairs at last, but even +then neither Peter nor Jim could sleep, for +the one was restless with happiness and the +other with the excitement of impending +change. Peter would see Vivia on the +morrow, and Jim would meet strange faces. +Peter had returned to the security that he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" id="page174"></a>[pg 174]</span> +had fought and shed his blood for and to +the life and people he loved; Jim's fighting +was all before him, and behind him a disgrace +to be outlived.</p> + +<p class="indent">After a while Peter got up and went to +Jim's room in his pyjamas; he sat on the +edge of Jim's bed, and they talked of the +fighting over in France.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I've been thinking about my reĂ«nlistment," +said Jim, "and I guess I'll take a +chance on my own name. It's my +name I want to make good."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Sounds risky—but I don't believe it is +as risky as it sounds," said Peter.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Not if I go far enough away to enlist—to +Halifax or Toronto. There must be +lots of Hammonds in the army. I'll take +the risk, anyway. It isn't likely I'll run +across any of the old crowd. None of our +old officers would be hard on me, I guess, if +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" id="page175"></a>[pg 175]</span> +they found me fighting and doing my duty."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Capt. Long is dead. A great many of +the old crowd are dead, and others have +been promoted out of the regiment. Remember +Dave Hammer?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Yes. If I could ever be as good a soldier +as Dave Hammer I think I'd forget—except +sometimes in the middle of the night, +maybe—what a mean, worthless fellow I +have been."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'll tell you what, Jim," said Peter suddenly, +"I'll write a letter for you to carry; +and if any one spots you over there and is +nasty about it, you go to any officer you +know in the old battalion and tell the truth +and show my letter. I guess that will clear +your name, Jim, if you do your duty."</p> + +<p class="indent">"You don't mean to put <i>everything</i> in the +letter, do you?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Only what is known officially—that you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" id="page176"></a>[pg 176]</span> +went home from your regiment here in +Canada on pass, started acting the fool and +deserted. That is the charge against you, +Jim—desertion. But it is the mildest sort +of desertion, and reĂ«nlistment just about +offsets it. The same thing done in France +in the face of the enemy is punished—you +know how."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Yes, I know how it is punished," said +Hammond. "You wouldn't worry about +that if you knew as much about how I feel +now as I do myself. Of course I've got to +prove it before you'll believe it, Peter, but +I'm not afraid to fight."</p> + +<p class="indent">When Peter had gone back to his room, +he sat down to write the letter that Jim +Hammond was to carry in his pocket. It +was a long letter, and Peter was a slow +writer. He spared no pains in making +every point of his argument perfectly clear. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" id="page177"></a>[pg 177]</span> +He staked the military reputation of the +whole Starkley family on James Hammond's +future behavior as a soldier. He +sealed it with red wax and his great-grandfather's +seal and addressed the envelope to +"Any Officer of the 26th Can. Infty. Bn. or +of any Unit of the Can. Army Corps of the +B. E. F." When finally he had the letter +done, it was morning.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" id="page178"></a>[pg 178]</span></p> + +<h2><a name="chVIII" id="chVIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /> +<small>THE 26TH "MOPS UP"</small></h2> + +<p class="indent">AFTER Jim Hammond went away +from Beaver Dam he wrote to +Mrs. Starkley from Toronto, saying +that he had enlisted in a new infantry +battalion and that all was well with him. +That was the last news from him, or of +him, to be received at Beaver Dam for +many months.</p> + +<p class="indent">The war held and crushed and sweated +on the western front. Every day found the +Canadians in the grinding and perilous toil +of it. In April, 1916, the Second Canadian +Division held the ground about St. +Eloi against terrific onslaughts. Then and +there were fought those desperate actions +known as the Battles of the Craters. Hiram +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" id="page179"></a>[pg 179]</span> +Sill, D. C. M., now a sergeant, received +a wound that put him out of action +for nearly two months. Dick Starkley was +buried twice, once beneath the lip of one +of the craters as it returned to earth after +a jump into the air, and again in his dugout. +No bones were broken, but he had +to rest for three days.</p> + +<p class="indent">Other Canadian divisions moved into the +Ypres salient in April—back to their first +field of glory of the year before. That +salient of terrible fame, advanced round +the battered city of Ypres like a blunt spearhead +driven into the enemy's positions, will +live for centuries after its trenches are +leveled. British soldiers have fallen in +their tens of thousands in and beyond and +on the flanks of that city of destruction. +From three sides the German guns flailed +it through four desperate years. Masses +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" id="page180"></a>[pg 180]</span> +of German infantry surged up and broke +against its torn edges, German gas drenched +it, liquid fire scorched it, and mines blasted +it. Now and again the edge of that salient +was bent inward a little for a day or a +week; but in those four years no German +set foot in that city of heroic ruins except +as a prisoner.</p> + +<p class="indent">The 26th Battalion celebrated Dominion +Day—July 1st—by raiding a convenient +point of the German front line. The assault +was made by a party of twenty-five +"other ranks" commanded by two junior +officers. It was supported by the fire of +our heavy field guns and heavy and medium +trench mortars.</p> + +<p class="indent">Sergts. Frank Sacobie and Hiram Sill +were of the party, but Dick Starkley was +not. Dick could not be spared for it from +his duties with his platoon, for he was in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>[pg 181]</span> +acting command during the enforced absence +of Lieut. Smith, who was suffering +at a base hospital from a combination of +gas and fever. The men from New Brunswick +were observed by the garrison of the +threatened trench while they were still on +the wrong side of the inner line of hostile +wire, and a heavy but wild fire was opened +on them with rifles and machine guns. But +the raiders did not pause. They passed +through the last entanglement, entered the +trench, killed a number of the enemy and +collected considerable material for identification. +Their casualties were few, and no +wound was of a serious nature. Hiram +Sill was dizzy and bleeding freely, but +cheerful. One small fragment of a bomb +had cut open his right cheek, and another +had nicked his left shoulder. Sacobie carried +him home on his back.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>[pg 182]</span> +It was a little affair, remarkable only as +a new way of celebrating Dominion Day, +and differed only in minor details from hundreds +of other little bursts of aggressive +activity on that front.</p> + +<p class="indent">Later in the month a Distinguished Service +Order, two Military Crosses, four Distinguished +Conduct Medals and five Military +Medals were awarded to the battalion +in recognition of its work about St. Eloi. +Dick Starkley and Frank Sacobie each drew +a D. C. M. A few days after that Lieut. +Smith returned from Blighty and took back +the command of his platoon from Dick; +and at the same time he informed Dick +that he was earmarked for a commission.</p> + +<p class="indent">The Canadians began their march from +the Ypres salient to the Somme on September +1, 1916. They marched cheerfully, +glad of a change and hoping for the best. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>[pg 183]</span> +The weather was fine, and the towns and +villages through which they passed seemed +to them pleasant places full of friendly +people. They were going to fight on a +new front; and, as became soldiers, it was +their firm belief that any change would be +for the better.</p> + +<p class="indent">On the 8th of September, while on the +march, Dick Starkley was gazetted a lieutenant +of Canadian Infantry. Mr. Smith +found his third star in the same gazette, +and Dick took the platoon. Henry visited +the battalion a few days later and presented +to the new lieutenant an old uniform that +would do very well until the London tailors +were given a chance. Dick was a proud +soldier that day; and an opportunity of +showing his new dignity to the enemy soon +occurred. That opportunity was the famous +battle of Courcelette.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184"></a>[pg 184]</span> +From one o'clock of the afternoon of +September 14 until four o'clock the next +morning our heavy guns and howitzers belabored +with high explosive shells the fortified +sugar refinery and its strong trenches +and the village of Courcelette beyond. +Then for an hour the big guns were silent. +The battalions of the Fourth and Sixth Brigades +waited in their jumping-off trenches +before Pozières. The Fifth Brigade, of +which the 26th Battalion was a unit, rested +in reserve.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dawn broke with a clear sky and promise +of sunshine and a frosty tingle in the air. +At six o'clock the eighteen-pounder guns +of nine brigades of artillery, smashing into +sudden activity, laid a dense barrage on +the nearest rim of the German positions. +Four minutes later the barrage lifted and +jumped forward one hundred yards, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>[pg 185]</span> +the infantry climbed out of their trenches +and followed it into the first German +trench. The fight was on in earnest, and in +shell holes, in corners of trenches and +against improvised barricades many great +feats of arms were dared and achieved. A +tank led the infantry against the strongly +fortified ruins of the refinery and toppled +down everything in its path.</p> + +<p class="indent">Lieut. Dick Starkley and his friends +gave ear all morning to the din of battle, +wished themselves farther forward in the +middle of it and wondered whether the +brigades in front would leave anything for +them to do on the morrow. Messages of +success came back to them from time to +time. By eight o'clock, after two hours of +fighting, the Canadians had taken the +formidable trenches, the sugar refinery, a +fortified sunken road and hundreds of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>[pg 186]</span> +prisoners. The way was open to Courcelette.</p> + +<p class="indent">"If they don't slow up—if they don't +quit altogether this very minute—they'll +be crowding right in to Courcelette and +doing us out of a job!" complained Sergt. +Hiram Sill. "That's our job, Courcelette +is—our job for to-morrow. They've done +what they set out to do, and if they go ahead +now and try something they haven't planned +for, well, they'll maybe bite off more +than they can chew. The psychology of +it will be all wrong; their minds aren't +made up to that idea."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I guess the idee ain't the hull thing," +remarked a middle-aged corporal. "Many +a good job has been done kind of unexpectedly +in this war. I reckon this here +psychology didn't have much to do with +your D. C. M."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>[pg 187]</span> +"That's where you're dead wrong, +Henry," said Hiram. "I knew I'd get a +D. C. M. all along, from the first minute I +ever set foot in a trench. My mind and +my spirit were all made up for it. I knew +I'd get a D. C. M. just as sure as I know +now that I'll get a bar to it—if I don't go +west first."</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick, who had joined the group, laughed +and smote Hiram on the shoulder.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You're dead right!" he exclaimed. +"Old Psychology, you're a wonder of the +age! Be careful what you make up your +heart and soul and mind to next or you'll +find yourself in command of the division."</p> + +<p class="indent">"What do you mean, lieutenant?" asked +Sill.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You've been awarded the D. C. M. +again, that's all!" cried Dick, shaking him +violently by the hand. "You've got your +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>[pg 188]</span> +bar, Old Psychology! Word of it just +came through from the Brigade."</p> + +<p class="indent">Sergt. Sill blushed and grew pale and +blushed again.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Say, boys, I'm a proud man," he said. +"There are some things you can't get used +to—and being decorated for distinguished +conduct on the field of glory is one of them, +I guess. If you'll excuse me, boys,—and +you, lieutenant,—I'll just wander along that +old trench a piece and think it over by myself."</p> + +<p class="indent">The way was open to Courcelette. The +battalions that had done the work in a few +hours and that, despite a terrific fire from +the enemy, had established themselves beyond +their final objective, were anxious to +continue about this business without pause +and clean up the strongly garrisoned town. +They had fought desperately in those few +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>[pg 189]</span> +hours, however, and the enemy's fire had +taken toll of them, and so they were told to +sit tight in their new trenches; but the common +sense of their assertion that Courcelette +itself should be assaulted without loss of +time, before the beaten and astounded +enemy could recover, was admitted.</p> + +<p class="indent">At half past three o'clock that afternoon +the Fifth Brigade received its orders and +instructions and immediately passed them +on and elaborated them to the battalions +concerned. By five o'clock the three battalions +that were to make the attack were +on their way across the open country, advancing +in waves. German guns battered +them but did not break their alignment. +They reached our new trenches and, with +the barrage of our own guns now moving +before them, passed through and over the +victorious survivors of the morning's battle.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>[pg 190]</span> +The French Canadians and the Nova +Scotians went first in two waves.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick Starkley and his platoon were on +the right of the front line of the 26th, which +was the third wave of attack. "Mopping +up" was the battalion's particular job on +this occasion.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Mopping up," like most military terms, +means considerably more than it suggests +to the ear. The mops are rifles, bombs and +bayonets; the things to be mopped are +machine-gun posts still in active operation, +bays and sections of trenches still occupied +by aggressive Germans, mined cellars and +garrisoned dugouts. Everything of a menacing +nature that the assaulting waves have +passed over or outflanked without demolishing +must be dealt with by the "moppers-up."</p> + +<p class="indent">The two lines of the 26th advanced at an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>[pg 191]</span> +easy walk; there was about five yards between +man and man. Each man carried +water and rations for forty-eight hours and +five empty sandbags, over and above his +arms and kit. The men kept their alignment +all the way up to the edge of the village. +Now and again they closed on the +center or extended to right or left to fill a +gap. Wounded men crawled into shell +holes or were picked up and carried forward. +Dead men lay sprawled beneath +their equipment, with their rifles and bayonets +out thrust toward Courcelette even in +death. The "walking wounded" continued +to go forward, some unconscious or unmindful +of their injuries and others trying to +bandage themselves as they walked.</p> + +<p class="indent">Col. MacKenzie led them, and beside +him walked a company commander. The +two shouted to each other above the din of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>[pg 192]</span> +battle, and sometimes they turned and +shouted back to their men. Other officers +walked a few paces in front of their men.</p> + +<p class="indent">A bursting shell threw Dick backward +into a small crater that had been made +earlier in the day and knocked the breath +out of him for a few seconds. Frank Sacobie +picked him up. The colonel gave the +signal to double, and the right flank of the +26th broke from a walk into a slow and +heavy jog. Sacobie jogged beside Dick.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Just a year since we came into the +line!" shouted Dick.</p> + +<p class="indent">"We were pa'tridge shootin' two years +ago to-day!" bawled Sacobie.</p> + +<p class="indent">The colonel turned with his back to Courcelette +and his face to his men and yelled +at them to come on. "Speed up on the +right!" he shouted. "The left is ahead. +The 25th is in already. Shake a leg, boys. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" id="page193"></a>[pg 193]</span> +If they don't move quick enough in front, +blow right through 'em."</p> + +<p class="indent">At the near edge of the village a number +of New Brunswickers, including their colonel, +overtook and mingled with the second +line of the 22d. Our barrage was lifted +clear of Courcelette by this time and set +like a spouting wall of fire and earth along +the far side of it; but the shells of the enemy +continued to pitch into it, heaving bricks +and rafters and the soil of little gardens into +the vibrating twilight. Machine guns +streamed their fire upon the invaders from +attics and cellars and sand-bagged windows. +The bombs and rifles of the 22d smashed +and cracked just ahead; and on the left, +still farther ahead, crashes and bangs and +shouts told all who could hear the whereabouts +of Hilliam and his lads from Nova +Scotia.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" id="page194"></a>[pg 194]</span> +Dick Starkley saw a darting flicker of +fire from the butt of a broken chimney beyond +a cellar full of bricks and splintered +timber. He shouted to his men, let his +pistol swing from its lanyard and threw a +bomb. Then, stooping low, he dashed at +the jumble of ruins in the cellar. He saw +his bomb burst beside the stump of chimney. +The machine gun flickered again, and +<i>spat-spat-spat</i> came quicker than thought. +Other bombs smashed in front of him, to +right and left of the chimney. He got his +right foot entangled in what had once been +a baby's crib.</p> + +<p class="indent">There he was, staggering on the very +summit of that low mound of rubbish, +fairly in line with the aim of the machine +gun. Something seized him by some part +of his equipment and jerked him backward. +He lit on his back and slid a yard, then beheld +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" id="page195"></a>[pg 195]</span> +the face of Hiram Sill staring down at +him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Hit?" asked Hiram.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Don't think so. No."</p> + +<p class="indent">"It's a wonder."</p> + +<p class="indent">Five men from Dick's platoon joined +them in the ruins. Together they threw +seven grenades. The hidden gun ceased +fire. Dick scrambled up and over the rubbish +and around what was left of the shattered +chimney that masked the machine-gun +post. In the dim light he saw sprawled +shapes and crouching shapes, and one +stooped over the machine gun, working +swiftly to clear it again for action. Dick +pistoled the gunner. The three survivors +of that crew put up their hands. Sergt. +Sill disarmed them and told them to "beat +it" back to the Canadian lines. Fifty yards +on they found Sacobie and two privates +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page196" id="page196"></a>[pg 196]</span> +counting prisoners at the mouth of a dugout.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Twenty-nine without a scratch," said +Sacobie.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Find stretchers for them and send them +back with our wounded, under escort," +said Dick. "Put a corporal in charge. Is +there a corporal here?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'm here, sir."</p> + +<p class="indent">"You, Judd? Take them back with as +many of our wounded as they can carry. +Two men with you should be escort enough. +Hand over the wounded and fetch up any +grenades and ammunition you can get hold +of."</p> + +<p class="indent">Capt. Smith staggered up to Dick.</p> + +<p class="indent">"We are through and out the other side!" +he gasped. "Get as many of our fellows +as you can collect quick to stiffen this flank. +Dig in beyond the houses—in line with the +25th. The colonel is up there somewhere."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" id="page197"></a>[pg 197]</span> +He swayed and stumbled against the platoon +commander. Dick supported him +with an arm.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Hit?" asked Dick.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Just what you'd notice," said the captain, +straightening himself and reeling away.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Go after him and do what you can for +him," said Dick to one of his men. "Bandage +him and then go look for an M. O."</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick hurried on toward the forward edge +of the village, strengthening his following +as he went. The shelling was still heavy +and the noise deafening, but the hand-to-hand +fighting among the houses had lessened. +Dick led his men through one wall +of a house that had been hit by a heavy shell +and through the other wall into a little garden. +There were bricks and tiles and iron +shards in that garden; and in the middle +of it, untouched, a little arbor of grapevines. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page198" id="page198"></a>[pg 198]</span> +Dick passed through the arbor on his way +to the broken wall at the foot of the garden. +There were two benches in it and a small +round table.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick went through the arbor in a second, +and then he sprang to the broken crest of +the wall. He had scarcely mounted upon +it before something red burst close in front +of his eyes.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="indent">Dick was not astonished to find himself +in the old garden at Beaver Dam. The +lilacs were in flower and full of bees and +butterflies. He still wore his shrapnel helmet. +It felt very uncomfortable, and he +tried to take it off—but it stuck fast to his +head. Even that did not astonish him. He +saw an arbor of grapevines and entered it +and sat down on a bench with his elbows +on a small round table. He recognized it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page199" id="page199"></a>[pg 199]</span> +as the arbor he had seen that evening in +Courcelette—the evening of September 15.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I must have brought it home with +me," he reflected. "The war must be +over."</p> + +<p class="indent">Flora entered the arbor then and asked +him why he was wearing an officer's jacket. +He thought it queer that she had not heard +about his commission.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I was promoted on the Somme—no, it +was before that," he began, and then everything +became dark. "I can't see," he +said.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Don't worry about that," replied a +voice that was not Flora's. "Your eyes are +bandaged for the time being. They'll be +as well as ever in a few days."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I must have been dreaming. Where am +I—and what is wrong with me?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"You are in No. 2 Canadian General +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page200" id="page200"></a>[pg 200]</span> +Hospital and have been dreaming for almost +a week. But you are doing very +well."</p> + +<p class="indent">"What hit me? And have I all my legs +and arms?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"It must have been a whiz-bang," replied +the unknown voice. "You are suffering +from head wounds that are not so +serious as we feared and from broken ribs +and a few cuts and gashes. You must +drink this and stop talking."</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick obediently drank it, whatever it +was.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I wish you could give me some news +of the battalion, and then I'd keep quiet for +a long time," he said.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Do you want me to open and read this +letter that your brother left for you two +days ago?" asked the Sister.</p> + +<p class="indent">She read as follows:</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page201" id="page201"></a>[pg 201]</span> +"Dear Dick. As your temperature is up +and you refuse to know me I am leaving +this note for you with the charming Sister +who seems to be your C. O. just now. She +tells me that you will be as fit as a fiddle in +a month or so. Accept my congratulations +on your escape and on the battle of Courcelette. +I have written to Beaver Dam +about it and cabled that you will live to +fight again. Frank Sacobie and that psychological +sergeant with a D. C. M. and +bar are booked for Blighty, to polish up +for their commissions. I called on them +after the fight. They are well—but I can't +say that they escaped without a scratch, for +they both looked as if they had been mixing +it up with a bunch of wildcats. Sacobie +has a black eye and doesn't know who or +what hit him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Do you remember Jim Hammond? He +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page202" id="page202"></a>[pg 202]</span> +came over to a battalion of this division with +a draft from England about four months +ago. He looked me up one day last week +and told me a mighty queer story about +himself. I won't try to repeat it, for I am +sure he'll tell it to you himself at the first +opportunity. He is making good, as far +as I can see and hear. Pat Hammond has +a job in London now. He was badly gassed +about a month ago. I will get another +day's special leave as soon as possible and +pay you another visit.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Your affectionate brother, Henry Starkley."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page203" id="page203"></a>[pg 203]</span></p> + +<h2><a name="chIX" id="chIX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /> +<small>FRANK SACOBIE OBJECTS</small></h2> + +<p class="indent">WITHIN ten days of the battle of +Courcelette, Lieut. Richard +Starkley was able to see; and +twenty days after that he was able to walk. +His walking at first was an extraordinary +thing, and extraordinary was the amount +of pleasure that he derived from it. With +a crutch under one shoulder and Sister Gilbert +under the other, bandaged and padded +from hip to neck, and with his battered +but entire legs wavering beneath him, he +crossed the ward that first day without exceeding +the speed limit. Brother officers +in various stages of repair did not refrain +from expressing their opinions of his performance.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page204" id="page204"></a>[pg 204]</span> +"Try to be back for tea, old son," said a +New Zealand major.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Are those your legs or mine you're fox-trotting +with?" asked an English subaltern; +and an elderly colonel called, "I'll hop out +and show you how to walk in a minute, if +you don't do better than that!"</p> + +<p class="indent">The colonel laughed, and the inmates of +the other beds laughed, and Dick and +Sister Gilbert laughed, for that, you must +know, was a very good joke. The humor +of the remark lay in the fact that the elderly +colonel had not a leg to his name.</p> + +<p class="indent">Day by day Dick improved in pace and +gait, and his activities inspired a number of +his companions to shake an uncertain leg +or two. The elderly colonel organized +contests; and the great free-for-all race +twice round the ward was one of the notable +sporting events of the war.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" id="page205"></a>[pg 205]</span> +At last Dick was shipped to Blighty and +admitted to a hospital for convalescent +Canadian officers. There Capt. J. A. +Starkley-Davenport soon found him. No +change that the eye could detect had taken +place in Jack Davenport. His face was +as thin and colorless as when Dick had first +seen it; his eyes were just as bright, and +their glances as kindly and intent; his body +was as frail and as immaculately garbed. +Dick wondered how one so frail could +exist a week without either breaking utterly +or gaining in strength.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You're a wonder, Dick!" exclaimed +Davenport.</p> + +<p class="indent">"It strikes me that you are the wonder," +said Dick.</p> + +<p class="indent">"But they tell me that you stopped a +whiz-bang and will be as fit as ever, nerve +and body, in a little while."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" id="page206"></a>[pg 206]</span> +"I stopped bits of it—but I don't think +it actually detonated on me. All I got was +some of the splash. I was lucky!"</p> + +<p class="indent">"You were indeed," said the other, with +a shadow in his eyes. "I was lucky, too—though +there have been times when I have +been fool enough to wish that I had been +left on the field." Then he straightened +his thin shoulders and laughed quietly. +"But if I had gone west I should have +missed Frank Sacobie and Hiram Sill. +They lunched with me last week and have +promised to turn up on Sunday. You'll be +right for Sunday, Dick, and I'll have a +pucka party in your honor."</p> + +<p class="indent">"How are they, and what are they up to?" +asked Dick.</p> + +<p class="indent">"They are at the top of their form, both +of them, and up to anything," replied +Davenport. "Your Canadian cadet course +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" id="page207"></a>[pg 207]</span> +is the stiffest thing of its kind in England, +but it doesn't seem to bother those two. +Frank is smarter than anything the Guards +can show and is believed to be a rajah; +and Hiram writes letters to Washington +urging the formation of an American division +to be attached to the Canadian Corps +and suggesting his appointment to the command +of one of the brigades."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Those letters must amuse the censors," +said Dick with a grin.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I imagine they do. Washington hasn't +answered yet; and so Hiram is getting his +dander up and is pitching each letter a little +higher than the one before it. Incidentally, +he has a great deal to say to our War +Office, and his novel suggestions for developing +trench warfare seem to have awakened +a variety of emotions in the brains and +livers of a lot of worthy <i>brass hats</i>."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" id="page208"></a>[pg 208]</span> +Dick laughed. "What are his ideas for +developing trench warfare?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"One is the organization of a shot-gun +platoon in every battalion. The weapon is +to be the duck gun, number eight bore, I +believe. Hiram maintains that, used +within a range of one hundred and fifty +yards, those weapons would be superior to +any in repulsing attacks in mass and in +cleaning up raided trenches. He is a great +believer in the deadly and demoralizing +effects of point-blank fire."</p> + +<p class="indent">"He is right in that—once you get rid of +the parapet."</p> + +<p class="indent">"He gets rid of the parapet with the +point-blank fire of what he calls trench cannon—guns, +three feet long, mounted so that +they can be carried along a trench by +four men; they are to fire ten- or twelve-pound +high explosive shells from the front +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" id="page209"></a>[pg 209]</span> +line smack against the opposite parapet."</p> + +<p class="indent">"It sounds right, too; but so many things +sound right that work all wrong. What +are his other schemes?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"One has to do with a thundering big six-hooked +grapnel, with a wire cable attached, +that is to be shot into the hostile lines from +a big trench mortar and then winched back +by steam. He expects his grapnel—give +him power enough—to tear out trenches, +machine-gun posts and battalion headquarters, +and bring home all sorts of odds +and ends of value for identification purposes. +Can't you see the brigadier stepping +out before brekker to take a look at +the night's haul?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"My hat! What did the War Office +think of that?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"An acting assistant something or other +of the name of Smythers and the rank of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" id="page210"></a>[pg 210]</span> +major was inspired by it to ask Hiram +whether he had ever served in France. +Hiram put over a twenty-page narrative +of his exploits with the battalion, with appendixes +of maps and notes and extracts +from brigade and battalion orders, and, so +far as I know, the major has not yet recovered +sufficiently to retaliate."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Well, I hope Frank Sacobie has left the +War Office alone."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Frank writes nothing and says very +little more than that. He seems to give all +his attention to his kit; but I have a suspicion +that he is a deep thinker. However +that may be, his taste in dress is astonishingly +good, and his deportment in society +is in as good taste as his breeches."</p> + +<p class="indent">"So he has a good time?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"He is very gay when he comes up to +town," answered Davenport.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" id="page211"></a>[pg 211]</span> +"He deserves a good time, but he can't +get it and at the same time doll himself up, +even in uniform, on his pay. How does +he do it?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"You have guessed it, Dick."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I think I have."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Then there is no need of my saying much +about it. I live on one sixth of my income. +That leaves five sixths for my friends; and +often, Dick, it is the thought of the spending +of the five parts that gives me courage +to go on keeping life in this useless body +with the one part. Sometimes a soldier's +wife buys food for herself and children, or +pays the rent, with my money; and the lion's +share of the pleasure of that transaction +is mine. Sometimes a chap on leave spends +a fistful of my treasury notes on dinners for +himself and his girl; and those dinners give +me more pleasure than the ones I eat myself. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page212" id="page212"></a>[pg 212]</span> +I haven't much of a stomach of my +own now, you know; and I haven't a girl +of my own to take out to one—even if Wilson +would let me go out at night. It is not +charity. I satisfy my own lost hunger for +food through the medium of poor people +with good appetites: I have my fun and +cut a dash in new breeches and swagger +service jackets through the medium of hard +fighting fellows from France. I am not +apologizing, you understand."</p> + +<p class="indent">"You needn't," said Dick dryly; and then +they both laughed.</p> + +<p class="indent">Hiram Sill and Frank Sacobie called on +Dick at the hospital soon after ten o'clock +on Sunday morning. They had come up +to town the evening before. The greetings +of the three friends were warm. Sacobie's +pleasure at the reunion found no voice, but +shone in his eyes and thrilled in the grip of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" id="page213"></a>[pg 213]</span> +his hand. Hiram Sill added words to the +message of his beaming face. He expressed +delighted amazement at Dick's appearance.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I couldn't quite believe it until now," +he said. "Neither could you if you had +seen yourself as we saw you when you were +picked up. Nothing the matter with your +face, except a dimple or two that you +weren't born with. All your legs and arms +still your own. I'd sooner see this than a +letter from Washington. With your luck +you'll live to command the battalion."</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick grinned. His greetings to his +friends had been as boyishly impulsive and +cheery as ever; yet there was something +looking out through the affection in his eyes +that would have puzzled his people in New +Brunswick if they had seen it. There was +a question in the look and a hint of anxiety +and perhaps the faintest shade of the airs +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" id="page214"></a>[pg 214]</span> +of a fond father, a sympathetic judge and +a hopeful appraiser. Frank and Hiram +recognized and accepted it without thought +or question. The look was nothing more +than the shadow of the habit of responsibility +and command.</p> + +<p class="indent">Hiram talked about Washington and the +War Office, and discussed his grapnel idea +with considerable heat. Frank Sacobie +took no part in that discussion and little in +the general conversation. Soon after twelve +o'clock all three set out in a taxicab for +Jack Davenport's house.</p> + +<p class="indent">The luncheon was successful. The other +guests were three women—a cousin of +Jack's on the Davenport side and her two +daughters. The host and Hiram Sill both +conversed brilliantly. Frank was inspired +to make at least five separate remarks of +some half dozen words each. Dick soon +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" id="page215"></a>[pg 215]</span> +let the drift of the general conversation +escape him, so interested did he become in +the girl on his right.</p> + +<p class="indent">Kathleen Kingston seemed to him a +strange mixture of shyness and self-possession, +of calmness and vivacity. The coloring +of her small face was wonderfully mobile—so +Dick expressed it to himself—and +yet her eyes were frank, steady and unembarrassed. +Her voice was curiously low +and clear.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick was conscious of feeling a vague +and unsteady wonder at himself. Why +this sudden interest in a girl? He had +never felt anything of the kind before. +Had this something to do with the wounds +in his head? He could not entertain that +suggestion seriously. However that might +be, he felt that his sudden interest in this +young person whom he had not so much +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" id="page216"></a>[pg 216]</span> +as heard of an hour ago greatly increased +his interest in many things. He was conscious +of a sure friendship for her, as if he +had known her for years. He knew that +this friendship was a more important thing +to him than his friendships with Hiram Sill +and Frank Sacobie—and yet those friendships +had grown day by day, strengthened +week by week and stood the test of suffering +and peril.</p> + +<p class="indent">She told him that her father was still in +France, but safe now at General Headquarters, +that her eldest brother had been +killed in action in 1914, that another was +fighting in the East, and that still another +was a midshipman on the North Sea. +Also, she told him that she wanted to go +to France as a V. A. D., that she had left +school six months ago and was working five +hours every day making bandages and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" id="page217"></a>[pg 217]</span> +splints, and that she was seventeen years +old. Those confidences melted Dick's +tongue. He told her his own age and that +he had added a little to it at the time of +enlisting; he spoke of night and daylight +raids and major offensive operations in +which he had taken part, of the military +careers of Henry and Peter and of life at +Beaver Dam. She seemed to be as keenly +interested in his confidences as he had been +in hers. In the library, where coffee was +served, Dick continued to cling to his new +friend.</p> + +<p class="indent">The party came to an end at last, leaving +Dick in a somewhat scattered state of +mind. Before leaving with her daughters, +Mrs. Kingston gave her address and a cordial +invitation to make use of it to each of +the three. Before long Wilson took Jack +off to bed. Then Hiram left to keep an appointment +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" id="page218"></a>[pg 218]</span> +at the Royal Automobile Club +with a captain who knew some one at the +War Office. That left Frank and Dick +with Jack Davenport's library to themselves. +One place was much the same as +another to Dick just then. He was again +wondering if he could possibly be suffering +in some subtle and painless way from the +wounds in his head. With enquiring fingers +he felt the spotless bandage that still +adorned the top of his head.</p> + +<p class="indent">Sacobie got out of his chair suddenly, +with an abruptness of movement that was +foreign to him, and walked the length of +the room and back. He halted before Dick +and stared down at him keenly for several +seconds without attracting that battered +youth's attention. So he fell again to pacing +the room, walking lightly and with +straight feet, the true Indian walk. At +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" id="page219"></a>[pg 219]</span> +last he halted again in front of Dick's +chair.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I am not going back to the battalion," +he said.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick sat up with a jerk and stared at +him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I am not going back," repeated Sacobie. +"I shall get my commission, that is sure; +but I shall not be an officer in the battalion."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Why the mischief not?" exclaimed +Dick. "What's the matter with the battalion, +I'd like to know?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Nothing," replied the other. He moved +away a few paces, then turned back again. +"A good battalion. I was a good sergeant +there. But I met Capt. Dodds, on leave, +one day, and we had lunch together at +Scott's; and he feel pretty good—he felt +pretty good—and he talked a lot. He told +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" id="page220"></a>[pg 220]</span> +me how some officers and other ranks say +the colonel didn't do right when he put in +my name for cadet course and a commission. +You know why, Dick. So I don't +go back to the infantry with my two stars."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Do you mean because you are an Indian? +That is rot!"</p> + +<p class="indent">"No, it is good sense. You think about +it hard as I have thought about it day and +night. They don't say I don't know my +job. The captain told me the colonel was +right and everybody knew it when he said +I should make the best scout officer in the +brigade; and the men like me, you know +that; but the men don't want an Injun for +an officer. They are white men. I am a +Malecite—red. That is right. I don't go +back with my officer stars."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Do you mean that you won't take your +commission?" asked Dick.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page221" id="page221"></a>[pg 221]</span> +"No. I take it, sure. But not in the +26th."</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick did not argue. He had never considered +his friend's case in that light before, +but now he knew that Sacobie was right. +The noncommissioned officers and men +would not question Frank's military qualifications, +his ability or his personal merits. +His race was the only thing about him to +which they objected—and that appeared +objectionable in him only when they considered +him as an officer. As a "non-com" +he was one of themselves, but as an officer +they must consider him impersonally as a +superior. There was where the New +Brunswick soldiers would cease to consider +their friend and comrade Frank Sacobie +and see only a member of an inferior race. +Their point of view would immediately +revert to that of the old days before the war, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page222" id="page222"></a>[pg 222]</span> +when they would have laughed at a Malecite's +undertaking to perform any task except +paddling a canoe.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Will you transfer to another battalion?" +asked Dick, as a result of his reflections.</p> + +<p class="indent">Frank shook his head but made no reply.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Then to an English battalion?" Dick +persisted. "There are dozens that would +be glad to have you, Frank. A Canadian +with your record would not have to look +far for a job in this war. Jack Davenport's +old regiment would snap you up +quick as a wink, commission and all, I bet +a dollar."</p> + +<p class="indent">The other smiled gravely. "That is +right," he said. "Capt. Davenport is my +friend and knows what I am; but most English +people want me to be some kind of +prince from India. I am myself—a Canadian +soldier. I don't want to play the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page223" id="page223"></a>[pg 223]</span> +monkey. Two-Blanket Sacobie was a big +chief, with his salmon spear and sometimes +nothing to eat. His squaw chopped the +wood and carried the water. I am not a +prince, nor I'm not a monkey. I come to +the war, and the English people call me +rajah; but the Englishman come to our +country and hire me for a guide in the +woods and call me a nigger. No, I am +myself with what good I have in me. I +can do to fight the Germans, and that is all +I want, Dick. I try to be a gentleman, like +Peter and Capt. Davenport, and the King +will make me an officer. That is good. +I will join the Royal Flying Corps. Then +they will name me for what I am by what +I do."</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick gripped Frank's right hand in a +hearty clasp of respect and admiration.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You're a brick!" he said. "Jack was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page224" id="page224"></a>[pg 224]</span> +right when he said you were a deep thinker."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I got to think deep—deeper than you," +said Frank. "I got to think all for myself, +because my fathers didn't think at all."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" id="page225"></a>[pg 225]</span></p> + +<h2><a name="chX" id="chX"></a>CHAPTER X<br /> +<small>DICK OBLIGES HIS FRIEND</small></h2> + +<p class="indent">BOTH Hiram Sill and Frank Sacobie +completed the cadet course and +passed the final examinations. +After one last fling at Washington and one +more astounding suggestion to the War +Office, Mr. Sill went back to France and +his battalion and took command of a platoon. +Mr. Sacobie transferred, with his +new rank, to the Royal Flying Corps and +immediately began another course of instruction. +His brother officers decided +that he was of a family of Italian origin. +He did not bother his head about what they +thought and applied himself with fervor +to mastering the science of flying.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick recovered his strength steadily. He +saw Davenport frequently and the Kingstons +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" id="page226"></a>[pg 226]</span> +still more frequently. His friendship +with the Kingstons—particularly with +Kathleen—deepened without a check. No +two days ever went by consecutively without +his seeing one or another of that family—usually +one.</p> + +<p class="indent">On a certain Tuesday morning near the +end of November he left the hospital at ten +o'clock in high spirits. He had that morning +discarded his last crutch and now moved +along with the help of two big sticks. The +dressing on his head was reduced to one +thin strip of linen bound smoothly round +just above the line of his eyebrows. It +showed beneath his cap and gave him +somewhat the air of a cheerful brigand. +Though his left foot came into contact with +the pavement very gingerly, he twirled one +of the heavy sticks airily every now and +again.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" id="page227"></a>[pg 227]</span> +Dick found Jack Davenport in the library. +A woman and two little girls were +leaving the library as he entered. The +woman was poorly dressed, and her eyelids +were red from recent tears—but now +a look of relief, almost of joy, shone in her +eyes. She turned on the threshold.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Bill will have more heart now, sir, for +the fighting of his troubles and miseries over +there," she said. "If I were to stand and +talk an hour, sir, I couldn't tell you what's +in my heart—but I say again, God bless +you for your great kindness!"</p> + +<p class="indent">She turned again then and passed Dick, +and the butler opened the big door and +bowed her out of the house with an air of +cheery good will.</p> + +<p class="indent">Capt. Starkley-Davenport sat with his +crutch and stick leaning against the table. +On the cloth within easy reach his check +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" id="page228"></a>[pg 228]</span> +book lay open before him. He was dressed +with his usual completeness of detail and +studied simplicity.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Have you been boarded yet?" asked +Jack.</p> + +<p class="indent">"To-morrow," replied Dick. "All the +M. O.'s are friends of mine, so I expect +to wangle back to my battalion in two +weeks."</p> + +<p class="indent">Jack smiled and shook his head. "Your +best friend in the world—or the maddest +doctor in the army—wouldn't send you +back to France on one leg, old son. Six +weeks is nearer the mark."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I can make it in two. You watch me."</p> + +<p class="indent">"And is it still your old battalion, Dick? +I have refrained from worrying you about +it this time, because you deserved a rest—but +I'm keener than ever to see you in my +old outfit; and your third pip is there for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page229" id="page229"></a>[pg 229]</span> +you to put up on the very day of your +transfer."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I've been thinking about it, Jack—and +of course I'd like to do it because you want +me to. But the colonel wouldn't understand. +No one who does not know you +would understand. People would think I'd +done it for the step, or that I hadn't hit it +off, as an officer, with the old crowd. I +want to stay, and yet I want to go. I want +to fight on, as far as my luck will take me, +with the 26th, and yet I'd be proud as a +brigadier to sport three pips with your lot. +As for doing something that you want me +to do—why, to be quite frank with you, +there isn't another man in the world I'd +sooner please than you. Give me a few +months more in which to decide. Give me +until my next leave from France."</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick had become embarrassed toward the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page230" id="page230"></a>[pg 230]</span> +end of his speech, and now he looked at +Davenport with a red face. The other returned +the glance with a flush on his thin +cheeks.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Bless you, Dick," he said and looked +away. "Your next leave from France," he +continued. "Six or seven months from +now, with luck. They don't give me +much more than that." Dick stared at his +friend.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I had to send for an M. O. early this +morning," Jack went on in a level voice. +"Wilson did it; he heard me fussing about. +By seven o'clock there were three of the +wisest looking me over—all three familiar +with my case ever since I got out of hospital. +They can't do anything, for everything that +could be removed—German metal—was +dug out long ago. A few odds and ends +remain, here and there—and one or another +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page231" id="page231"></a>[pg 231]</span> +of those is bound to get me within ten +or twelve months. So it will read +in the <i>Times</i> as 'Died of wounds,' after +all."</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick's face turned white. "Are you +joking?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Not I, old son," said the captain, smiling. +"I have a sense of humor—but it +doesn't run quite to that."</p> + +<p class="indent">"And here you are all dolled up in white +spats! Jack, you have a giant's heart! +And worrying about me and your regiment! +Jack, I'll do it! I'll transfer. I'll put in +my application to-day."</p> + +<p class="indent">"No. I like your suggestion better. +Wait till your next leave from France. I +have taken a fancy to that idea. You'll +come home in six or seven months, and you'll +ask me to let you put off your decision until +you return again. Of course I shall +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" id="page232"></a>[pg 232]</span> +have to say yes—and, since I am determined +to see the Essex badges on you, I'll +wait another six or seven months. I am +stubborn. Between your indecision and my +stubbornness, the chances are that I'll fool +the doctors. That would be a joke, if you +like!"</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick hobbled round the table and grasped +Jack's hand.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Done!" he exclaimed. "I am with you, +Jack. We'll play that game for all it is +worth. But you didn't seriously believe +what the doctors said, did you?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Yes, until five minutes ago."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Two years ago they said you would be +right as wheat in six months; and now they +say you will be dead in a year. If they +think they're prophets—they are clean off +their job. Would they bet money on it? +I don't think! One year! Fifty years +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page233" id="page233"></a>[pg 233]</span> +would have sounded almost as knowing and +a good sight more likely."</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick stayed to luncheon, and he remained +at the table after Wilson had taken +Jack away to lie down. Wilson came back +within fifteen minutes and found the +Canadian subaltern where he had left +him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Sir, I am anxious about Capt. Jack," he +said.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Why do you say that?" asked Dick.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Sir Peter Bayle and two other medical +gentlemen of the highest standing warned +him this very morning, sir, that he was only +one year more for this world; and now he +is singing, sir,—a thing he has not done in +months,—and a song which runs, sir, with +your permission, 'All the boys and girls I +chance to meet say, Who's that coming +down the street? Why, it's Milly; she's a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page234" id="page234"></a>[pg 234]</span> +daisy'—and so on, sir. I fear his wounds +have affected his mind, sir."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Wilson, I know that song and approve +of it," said Dick. "If Sir Peter Bayle told +you, in November, 1916, that you were to +die in November, 1917, of wounds received +in 1914, should you worry? Nix to that! +You would seriously suspect that Sir Peter +had his diagnosis of your case mixed up in +his high-priced noddle with Buchan's History +of the War; and if you are the man I +think you are, you, too, would sing."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I thank you, Mr. Richard. You fill +my heart with courage, sir," said Wilson.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick reached the Kingston house at four +o'clock and was shown as usual into the +drawing-room. The ladies were not there, +but an officer whom Dick had never seen +before stood on the hearthrug with his back +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page235" id="page235"></a>[pg 235]</span> +to the fire. He wore the crown and star +of a lieutenant colonel on his shoulders, a +wound stripe on his left sleeve, the red tabs +of the general staff on his collar, on his +right breast the blue ribbon of the Royal +Humane Society's medal and on his left +breast the ribbons of the D. S. O., of the +Queen's and the King's South African +medals, of several Indian medals and of +the Legion of Honor. His figure was +slight and of little more than the medium +height. A monocle without a cord shone +in his right eye, and his air was amiable +and alert. Dick halted on his two sticks +and said, "I beg your pardon, sir."</p> + +<p class="indent">The other flashed a smile, advanced +quickly and in two motions put Dick into +a deep chair and took possession of the +sticks. Then he shook the visitor's hand +heartily.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page236" id="page236"></a>[pg 236]</span> +"Glad to see you," he said. "There is +no mistaking you. You are Kathleen's +Canadian subaltern. I am Kathleen's +father."</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick knew that there were plenty of +suitable things to say in reply, but for the +life of him he could not think of one of +them. So he said nothing, but returned +the colonel's smile.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Don't be bashful, Dick," continued the +other. "I was a boy myself not so long ago +as you think—but I hadn't seen a shot fired +in anger when I was your age. It's amazing. +I wonder what weight of metal has +gone over your head, not to mention what +has hit you and fallen short. Tons and +tons, I suppose. It's an astounding war, to +my mind. Don't you find it so?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Yes, sir," replied Dick.</p> + +<p class="indent">"And you are right," continued the other. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page237" id="page237"></a>[pg 237]</span> +"I wish I were your age, so as to see it more +clearly. Stupendous!"</p> + +<p class="indent">At that moment Mrs. Kingston and the +two girls entered. It had been Dick's and +Kathleen's intention to go out to tea; but +the colonel upset that plan by saying that +he was very anxious to hear Dick talk. So +they remained at home for tea—and the +colonel did all the talking. Dick agreed +with everything he said about the war, however, +and then he said that Dick was right—so +it really made no difference after +all which of them actually said the +things.</p> + +<p class="indent">During the ten days of the colonel's +leave he and Dick became firm friends. +They knocked about town together every +morning, often lunched with Jack Davenport +and every afternoon and evening took +Mrs. Kingston and the girls out. Dick +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page238" id="page238"></a>[pg 238]</span> +dined at home with the family on the colonel's +last night of leave. After dinner, +when the others left the table, the colonel +detained Dick with a wink.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I won't keep you from Kathleen ten +minutes, my boy," he said. "I want to tell +you, in case I don't see you again for a long +time,—meetings between soldiers are uncertain +things, Dick,—that this little affair +between you and my daughter has done me +good to see. You are both babies, so don't +take it too seriously. Take it happily. +Whatever may happen in the future, you +two children will have something very +beautiful and romantic and innocent to look +back at in this war. Though you should +live to be ninety and marry a girl from Assiniboia, +yet you will always remember this +old town with pleasure. If, on the other +hand, you should continue in your present +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page239" id="page239"></a>[pg 239]</span> +vein—that is, continue to feel like this after +you grow up—that it is absolutely necessary +to your happiness to have tea with my +daughter every day—well, good luck to +you! I can't say more than that, my boy. +But in the meantime, be happy."</p> + +<p class="indent">Then he shook Dick vigorously by the +hand, patted his shoulder and pushed him +out of the room.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick handled the medical officers so ably +that he and his transportation were ready +for France on New Year's Day. The +Kingstons saw him off. He found a seat +in a first-class compartment and deposited +his haversack in it. Then the four stood +on the platform and tried in vain to think +of something to say. Even Mrs. Kingston +was silent. Officers of all ranks of +every branch of the service, with their +friends and relatives, crowded the long +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page240" id="page240"></a>[pg 240]</span> +platform. Late arrivals bundled in and +out of the carriages, looking for unclaimed +seats. Guards looked at their big silver +watches and requested the gentlemen to take +their seats. Then Mrs. Kingston kissed +Dick; then Mary kissed him; and then, +lifted to a state of recklessness, he kissed +Kathleen on her trembling lips. He saw +tears quivering in her eyes.</p> + +<p class="indent">"When I come back—next leave—will it +be the same?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="indent">She bowed her head, and the tears spilled +over and glistened on her cheeks. Standing +in the doorway of the compartment, +Dick saluted, then turned, trod on the toes +of a sapper major, moved heavily from +there to the spurred boots of an artillery +colonel and sat down violently and blindly +on his lumpy haversack. The five other +occupants of the compartment glanced +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page241" id="page241"></a>[pg 241]</span> +from Dick to the group on the platform.</p> + +<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 502px;"> +<a name="i259" id="i259"></a> +<img class="border" src="images/i259.jpg" width="502" height="699" alt="" /> +<div class="caption"> +<p class="center">"STANDING IN THE DOORWAY OF THE COMPARTMENT, +DICK SALUTED."</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="indent">"We all know it's a rotten war, old son," +said the gunner colonel and, stooping, rubbed +the toes of his outraged boots with his +gloves.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick found many old faces replaced by +new in the battalion. Enemy snipers, shell +fire, sickness and promotion had been at +work. Dick acted as assistant adjutant for +a couple of weeks and was then posted to +a company as second in command and +promised his step in rank at the earliest +opportunity. In the same company was +Lieut. Hiram Sill's platoon. Hiram, busy +as ever, had distinguished himself several +times since his return and was in a fair +way to be recommended for a Military +Cross.</p> + +<p class="indent">The commander of the company was a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page242" id="page242"></a>[pg 242]</span> +middle-aged, amiable person who had been +worked so hard during the past year that he +had nothing left to carry on with except +courage. At sight of Dick he rejoiced, for +Dick had a big reputation. He took off +his boots and belt, retired to his blankets and +told his batman to wake him when the war +was over. The relief was too much for +him; it had come too late. The more he +rested the worse he felt, and at last the +medical officer sent him out on a stretcher. +Fever and a general breakdown held him +at the base for several weeks, and then he +was shipped to Blighty. So Dick got +a company and his third star, and no +one begrudged him the one or the +other.</p> + +<p class="indent">The Canadian Corps worked all winter +in preparation for its great spring task. +The Germans fortified and intrenched and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page243" id="page243"></a>[pg 243]</span> +mightily garrisoned along all the great +ridge of Vimy, harassed the preparing +legions with shells and bombs and looked +contemptuously out and down upon us from +their strong vantage points. Others had +failed to wrest Vimy from them. But +night and day the Canadians went on with +their preparations.</p> + +<p class="indent">Word that the United States of America +had declared war on Germany reached the +toilers before Vimy on April 7; and within +the week there came a night of gunfire that +rocked the earth and tore the air. With +morning the gunfire ceased, only to break +forth again in lesser volume as the jumping +barrages were laid along the ridge; and +then, in a storm of wind and snow, the battalions +went over on a five-division front, +company after company, wave after wave, +riflemen, bombers and Lewis gunners. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page244" id="page244"></a>[pg 244]</span> +Canadians were striking after their winter +of drudgery.</p> + +<p class="indent">One of our men, a Yankee by birth, went +over that morning with a miniature Stars +and Stripes tied to his bayonet. We +cleared out the Huns and took the ridge; +and for days the water that filled the shell +holes and mine craters over that ground +was red with Canadian blood, and the plank +roads were slippery with it from the passing +of our wounded.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick went through that fight in front of +his company and came out of it speechless +with exhaustion, but unhit. Hiram Sill +survived it with his arm in a sling. Maj. +Henry Starkley was wounded again, again +not seriously. Maj. Patrick Hammond was +killed, and Corp. Jim Hammond was carried +back the next day with a torn scalp and +a crushed knee.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page245" id="page245"></a>[pg 245]</span> +On the tenth day after that battle Lieut. +Hiram Sill and his company commander +were the recipients of extraordinary news. +Mr. Sill was requested to visit the colonel +without loss of time. He turned up within +the minute and saluted with his left +hand.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You are wanted back in the U. S. A., +Hiram, for instructional purposes," said the +colonel, looking over a mess of papers at his +elbow. "You don't have to go if you don't +want to. Here it is—and to be made out +in triplicate, of course."</p> + +<p class="indent">Hiram examined the papers.</p> + +<p class="indent">"And here is something else that will interest +you," continued the colonel. "News +for you and Dick Starkley. You have your +M. C."</p> + +<p class="indent">Hiram's eyes shone.</p> + +<p class="indent">"And Dick seems to have hooked the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page246" id="page246"></a>[pg 246]</span> +same for his work on the Somme—and I +had given up all hope of that coming +through. I recommended him for a D. S. +O. last week. The way these recommendations +for awards are handled beats me. +They put them all into a hat and then +chuck the hat out of the window, I guess, +and whatever recommendations are picked +up in the street and returned through the +post are approved and acted upon. I know +a chap—come back here!"</p> + +<p class="indent">Hiram turned at the door of the hut.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Do you intend to accept that job?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p class="indent">"You have a choice between going over +to the American army with your rank or +simply being seconded from the Canadians +for that duty. What do you mean +to do?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Seconded, sir. I am an American citizen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page247" id="page247"></a>[pg 247]</span> +clear through, colonel, but I have worn +this cut of uniform too long to change it in +this war."</p> + +<p class="indent">Hiram found Dick in his billet, reading +a letter. Dick received the news of the +awards and of Hiram's appointment very +quietly.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Jack Davenport has gone west," he said.</p> + +<p class="indent">Hiram sat down and stared at Dick without +a word.</p> + +<p class="indent">"This letter is from Kathleen," continued +Dick. "She says Jack went out on Monday +to visit some of the people he helps. +He had taken on six more widows and seven +more babies since the Vimy show. On his +way home toward evening he and Wilson +were outside the Blackfriars underground +station, looking for a taxi, when a lorry took +a skid fair at an old woman and little boy +who were just making the curb. Wilson +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page248" id="page248"></a>[pg 248]</span> +swears that Jack jumped from the curb as +if there were nothing wrong with him, +landed fair in front of the lorry, knocked +the old woman and kid out from under, but +fell before he could get clear himself."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Killed?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Instantly."</p> + +<p class="indent">Hiram gazed down at his muddy boots, +and Dick continued to regard the letter in +his hand.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Can you beat it?" said Hiram at last.</p> + +<p class="indent">Dick got up and paced about the little +room, busy with his thoughts. Finally he +spoke.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Sacobie is flying, and you are booked for +the States, and I am going to transfer to +Jack's old lot," he said slowly.</p> + +<p class="indent">Hiram looked up at him, but did not +speak.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Jack wanted me to," continued Dick. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page249" id="page249"></a>[pg 249]</span> +"Well, why not? It's the same old army +and the same old war. A fellow should +make an effort to oblige a man like Jack—dead +or alive." He was silent for several +seconds, then went on: "Henry has been +offered a staff job in London. Peter is safe. +Sacobie has brought down four Boche +machines already. What have you heard +about Jim Hammond?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"It's Blighty for him—and then Canada. +He'll never in the world bend that leg +again."</p> + +<p class="indent">For a while Dick continued to pace back +and forth across the muddy floor in silence.</p> + +<p class="indent">"We are scattering, Old Psychology," he +said. "This war is a great scatterer—but +there are some things it can't touch. You'll +be homesick at your new job, Hiram,—and +I'll be homesick with the Essex bunch, I +suppose,—but there are some things that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page250" id="page250"></a>[pg 250]</span> +make it all seem worth the rotten misery of +it." He glanced down at Kathleen's letter, +then put it into his pocket. "Jack Davenport, +for one," he ended.</p> + +<p class="indent">"A soldier and a gentlemen," said Hiram.</p> + +<p class="center">THE END</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<div class="tnote"> +<h2>Transcriber Notes:</h2> + +<p class="indent">Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of +the speakers. Those words were retained as-is.</p> + +<p class="indent">The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up +paragraphs and so that they are next to the text they illustrate. Thus +the page number of the illustration might not match the page number in +the List of Illustrations, and the order of illustrations may not be the +same in the List of Illustrations and in the book.</p> + +<p class="indent">Errors in punctuation and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected +unless otherwise noted.</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 142, "comissions" was replaced with "commissions".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 243, "harrassed" was replaced with "harassed".</p> + +</div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44185 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/44185-h/images/i004.jpg b/44185-h/images/i004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd7b0e7 --- /dev/null +++ b/44185-h/images/i004.jpg diff --git a/44185-h/images/i005.jpg b/44185-h/images/i005.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..30d27d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/44185-h/images/i005.jpg diff --git a/44185-h/images/i035.jpg b/44185-h/images/i035.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..30b1ea7 --- /dev/null +++ b/44185-h/images/i035.jpg diff --git a/44185-h/images/i065.jpg b/44185-h/images/i065.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..903140e --- /dev/null +++ b/44185-h/images/i065.jpg diff --git a/44185-h/images/i167.jpg b/44185-h/images/i167.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..75e254c --- /dev/null +++ b/44185-h/images/i167.jpg diff --git a/44185-h/images/i259.jpg b/44185-h/images/i259.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f824dd2 --- /dev/null +++ b/44185-h/images/i259.jpg diff --git a/44185-h/images/iCover.jpg b/44185-h/images/iCover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e1c51d3 --- /dev/null +++ b/44185-h/images/iCover.jpg |
