Was he a German spy? How long had it been going on, and what damage had he already done to our cause? His desertion was bold, aye brave, but that was no atonement for the deep damnation of it! Could I ever believe in any man’s profession again? CHAPTER XVII ANOTHER DESERTER The desertion of Lieutenant Nickerson was the subject of many ugly remarks. A few asserted that they had suspicions from their first acquaintance with him that he was disloyal; but this assertion was not backed by any evidence to justify it. Others stoutly defended him by declaring that, while his desertion was a mystery, it would be explained sometime to his credit. But these were in a minority, and naturally so; for men will prefer to believe what they see, rather than theories or explanations. For my start I was simply dazed. At one moment, remembering Jot and his many manly qualities, I could not believe him to be a traitor to his country. Then, with the cold facts before me, how could I explain what I had seen in any other way? For a time I was heartsick and gloomy; but I did not let this mood interfere with my duty as an officer. I was more intensely loyal if possible than before. Shortly after Jot’s desertion I went to visit my wounded friend, Chaplain John, who was slowly recovering from his wound. The surgeon who had him in charge explained to me that it was a complicated case. A bullet had perforated his lung and,--but could not follow his diagnosis. (Why can’t a doctor speak plain English?) But what he really meant, I inferred, was, that after a time he would recover if-- The chaplain greeted me heartily. He was cheerful though weak and, as he said, tired out with lying in bed. I purposely avoided mentioning Lieutenant Nickerson, for I could not bear to discuss his desertion, since I could not explain it to his advantage, and with the facts all against him. My friend himself introduced the subject. “I am sorry about Nickerson. I know you must feel blue over it, Stark; I do myself.” “Thanks,” I said, “for thinking of us, when you have so much to bear yourself.” “Oh,” he said, “this is mere physical pain, isn’t it, after all, the least of pains we have to bear? Mental distress--soul pangs--are the hardest, it seems to me.” “I don’t know about that,” I replied. “Have you ever had the jumping toothache, or been seasick?” “Yes,” he replied, laughing heartily, “and they were tough nuts to crack;” and then soberly added, “but, after all, they are not to be compared with mental anguish; for one knows that when they are conquered that will be all of it. Now you are sad hearted and see no way out of it; and there is but one way, and that is by asking help from Heaven. That is never denied us, however great our distress.” Every word was balm to me, and seemed to bring a benediction. It was as though his courage and spiritual confidence had entered my soul to heal and purify.