A thunder of wheels over the cobbles of the quay froze him into a listening attitude. The noise stopped in a creaking of brakes, and Burke rose slowly, stretching his body to full length. He walked to the bulwarks and looked out. A big, black wagon was standing by. From it two men alighted, putting on great rubber gloves. Burke came down the gang-plank, bearing the boy in his arms. "Hurry up, he may pull through," he said. They placed the little form in the wagon and rumbled off to the heavy trot of the weary horses. The Met. carelessly took a position between Burke and the street, but this was not necessary. Burke looked down at the coffins, raised his head, took a big gulp of fresh air, and walked back up the plank. Ten minutes later a light buggy drove up. An officer with a brass cross on the collar of his khaki jacket sprang out and walked aboard. Burke went to his feet and his hand rose to his hat in military salute. "Good-morning, sir," he said. The officer's eyes wandered over the boat, taking in all the details swiftly, then came back to the man standing there at attention. He looked at the bloated face, with its ruins of strength beneath; at the blood-shot eyes, with their remnant of calm, blue light; at the great, corroded body, with its something yet elastic. "Jerry Burke!" he said. "Glad you remember me," said the man, with a slight sarcasm in his voice. The officer looked at him again, with a long, sweeping glance that took in the bloated face, the blood-shot eyes, the twisted mouth, the dirty, ragged collar, the greasy jacket, the trembling, clutching hands, the corkscrewed trousers, the heelless shoes--the whole abject picture of human degradation there before him. "And that's what you have become," he said, at length. Jerry did not answer. "Why the devil didn't you go home with the Volunteers?" asked the officer, angrily. Jerry's lips trembled. "It had got too bad by that time," he answered, at length. "And now?" "You can see." The officer paced the deck. "Who took care of that boy?" he asked, suddenly, turning upon Jerry with a snarl. "I did," answered the latter, surprised into acknowledgment. The officer went back to his pacing. At the tenth turn he stopped short, pivoted on his heel, and faced Burke. "You were a man once, weren't you?" he asked. "I suppose so," answered Jerry, hanging his head. "At least, you ought to know," he added, a little bitterly. "Well, do you want to be a man again?" Jerry was looking at the deck. He raised his eyes slowly till they plunged into the surgeon's. "Can you do it?" he asked, steadily. "I can't!" The officer's manner softened. "Well, here's the matter. I'm short of Health men. I need somebody on this derelict. You are the man; you're in quarantine, anyway." Jerry waited for more.