He stopped a minute and smiled again. "I was thinking all this when the chief came in, and after that I was so busy with the song that sprang into my mind that I came near forgetting the lot o' ye. If that rascal Patsy hadn't interrupted me, faith, I might have made the song longer." Sheila turned back from the window. There was a grin on the face of every lad, and on the face of Jamie was the look of a man who had found his dreams again. The song being new to his tongue, he gave it slowly: "They say the earth's a bit shot up--well, we can say the same, But, praise to every lad that's fought, the scars they show no shame. And for those who have prayed for us--why, here's an end to tears. Sure, God can do much healing in the next handful of years. "So, Johnnie, set your chanter and blow your pipes full strong, And, Larry, raise your voice again and lead our marching song. Let Mac unfurl the colors--till they sweep yon crimson west, For we're still the Royal Irish, a-fighting with the best." And that is precisely the way they went when they left the American Military Hospital No. 10 the next morning. The color-sergeant led. Jamie walked beside the stretcher to give a hand with the staff. Johnnie sat bolt upright, bolstered with many pillows, to enable him to get a firm grip on the pipes, and he skirled the "Shule Aroon" as he had never skirled before. Larry's voice again boomed in the lead, and every man in the hospital that had breath to spare cheered them as they passed. And for every one who saw or heard the going of the Royal Irish, that day, was left behind a memory green enough to last till the end of time. Chapter VIII INTO HER OWN The last big drive was on. Somewhere on the road between what had been the line of defense and what was the line of farthest advance rumbled a hospital camion with its nose to the war trail like an old dog on a fresh scent. In the camion sat Sheila O'Leary, late of the old San and later yet of the American Military Hospital No. 10. She was in field uniform; a pair of the chief's own boots were strapped over two pairs of woolen stockings. She was contemplating those boots now with a smile of rare contentment that showed its inwardness even in the gray light of early morning. "Never thought I should step into the shoes of a great surgeon. They ought to pass me through to the front if everything else fails, don't you think?" The chief eyed her quizzically. "They'll carry you as far as you'll care to go and for as long as you'll stand. What's troubling me is what your man will say when he knows?"