Nancy smoothed out his sheet, and sat silent. After a moment she said, “Bruce, when you draw that map of the islands write down the names of all Tommy’s crew and the positions they held.” “Now why do you want that?” “I may run across some of the others somewhere. Maybe someone was nearer Tommy when he ditched and will know what became of him.” “Now don’t you go getting your hopes up, Nancy. There’s not a chance in a hundred that any of the others will turn up.” “You do what I ask anyhow,” persisted Nancy. “When I get home I’ll write to the families of all the crew and tell them what I know. Even though there may be no hope, it’s some comfort to know the details.” “I suppose that would give our relatives some satisfaction,” Bruce admitted. “I’ve been so full of my own woes since I got back I haven’t thought of the folks back home wanting to hear about the others.” “Who in your condition wouldn’t be preoccupied with his own woes?” asked Nancy understandingly. “But we’re going to have you on your feet again before too long.” Nancy did all in her power to speed Bruce’s recovery in the weeks that followed. She felt a real personal pride in his improvement. At last there came a day when he was able to walk to the recreation room with only the aid of a stick and her arm. The nurses had fixed up this room for the use of convalescing patients. “I mustn’t get well too fast,” Bruce said with a twinkle in his nice gray eyes, “or they’ll be sending me away from here.” Bruce was sitting opposite Nancy at a game of bridge that day, and she thought how really handsome he was, now that he had shaved off his beard, and his gaunt cheeks were beginning to fill out. Pat Walden, the one-armed chap, for whom Nancy had finally made the apple pie, sat opposite Mabel. Nancy had devised a rack with nails driven through wood for Pat to stand his cards in while he played with his one hand. Her mother had sent out some magazines, published for the handicapped in the states. Nancy and Pat had quite an interesting time exploring the back issues in search of gadgets to help the one-armed. The magazines had gone the rounds of others who must begin life all over with various handicaps. Pat had a way of making jokes about his trouble, and Nancy had played the game with him as he learned to do things with one hand. Many of the boys, however, were sullen and sensitive about their afflictions, and with these the nurses had to pretend that their handicaps didn’t exist. Though the wounds in Bruce’s side had been slow in healing, and he would always limp from the improperly knit leg bone, at least his body was whole, and the doctors assured him he would be strong again. At the moment the number of cases was slightly reduced in number. Many of the earlier patients had been sent to ports to be taken home on ships that brought nurses and men over. “I heard a rumor today,” said Mabel, “that we may be moved soon—out to the islands.” “Soon?” asked Nancy eagerly.