Spruce nodded. The other turned a kind of groan into a cough and wiped his face. Awkwardly he helped Spruce wherever there was the chance for a hand; and in a little while his bungling agitation reached the worker, who straightened up and turned a grim face on him. "Was it me?" he whispered then. "For God's sake, Spruce--I did everything the doctor told me, nigh's I could remember. I didn't disturb him, 'cause he 'peared to be asleep. I--I never saw a man die before!" "It ain't no fault of yours," said Spruce in the same low whisper. "I'm sorry for you. Did you give him the ice I got?" "Yes, I did, Sergeant." "And was there enough for Green and Dick Danvers?" "Yes, I kept it rolled up in flannel and newspapers. Say, I got a little more, Sergeant." "How?" "The doctors or some fellers had a tub of lemonade outside, a little bit further down. I chipped off a bit." Spruce ground his teeth, but he made no comment. All he said was, "You go git Captain Hale and report. Tell the captain I got his folks' address. They'll want him sent home. They're rich folks and they were coming on; guess they're on the way now. Be quiet!" The soldier was looking at the placid face. A sob choked him. "He said, 'Thank you,' every time I gave him anything," he gulped. "God! it's murder to put fools like me at nursing; and the country full of women that know how and want to come!" "S-s-s! 'Tain't no good talking. You done your best. Go and report." As the wretched soldier lumbered off, Spruce set his teeth on an ugly oath. "I ought to have stayed, maybe," he thought, "but I've been doing with so little sleep, my head was feeling dirty queer; and the doctor sent me. Collapse, of course; temperature ran down to normal, and poor Tooley didn't notice, and him too weak to talk! Well, I hope I git the G boys through, that's all I ask!" He went over to the next cot, where lay the nearest of the G boys, greeting him cheerily. "Hello, Dick?" Dick was a handsome young specter, just beginning to turn the corner in a bad case of typhoid fever. His blue eyes lighted at Spruce's voice; and he sent a smile back at Spruce's smile. "Did you get some sleep?" said he. "What's that you have in your hand?" "That's milk, real milk from a cow. Yes, lots of sleep; you drink that." The sick man drank it with an expression of pleasure. "I don't believe any of the others get milk," he murmured; "save the rest for Edgar." "Edgar don't need it, Dick," Spruce answered gently. Dick drew a long, shivering sigh and his eyes wandered to the screen. "He was a soldier and he died for his country jest the same as if he were hit by a Mauser," said Spruce--he had taken the sick boy's long, thin hand and was smoothing his fingers. "It's no more 'an what we all got to expect when we enlist." "Of course," said Dick, smiling, "that's all right, for him or for me, but he--he was an awfully good fellow, Chris." "Sure," said Spruce. "Now, you lie still; I got to look after the other boys."