He went out, leaving Mrs. Cartwright to the oddest vigil she had ever spent. For the first time she found herself watching through the small hours in the company of a wounded lad who had come through that Hell which is not always left behind on the battlefield. They bring some of it away with them, too many of these boys! its fiery traces still impressed upon mind and brain and nerve, however plucky. Its memory persists, robbing them of laughter, despoiling them of that dreamless perfect sleep which is Youth's heritage, making of night a thing to be dreaded. So this young airman, who had been shot down in an air duel one moonlight night last spring, must live it through again and again before he might live it away.... Presently he raised his head. He began to mutter. She listened, pitifully, knowing that the lad scarcely knew even yet whom he was holding--save that it was human, and friendly, and warm. He scarcely cared to whom he was babbling in hoarse little snatches, incoherently--save that it was a woman, and kind. "Five--five of them! Five Australians!" he began, suddenly. "You know what splendid fine chaps.... I had to watch.... I was lying ... out there ... pinned under the wing. They ... they tried to get at me with stretchers--six times they tried ... came across No Man's Land...." "Yes; but you were dreaming," she said, in the most soothing tone of her deep voice. "You just had a bad dream----" "No, No! It was what happened," he said hoarsely. "They were trying to bring me in after I'd crashed. Those blighters ... turned a machine-gun on to them. They did in five. I--I saw it!" She could only look at him, only give him the comfort of her touch, could only put out to him, silently, all the pity that was in her. He took one hand away for a moment, passed it back over his hair in the known gesture of the flyer who adjusts his crest like cap, then returned his clasp to her arm. He began again: "I ... I never take an Australian's salute in the street without remembering ... that!... I had to lie there ... couldn't lift ... finger. Five of them, were stretched out ... killed.... Just for me! My God! Think of it----" He seemed about to break down once more. "Hush!" Mrs. Cartwright said, steadily. She bent her eyes upon his. "Hush! One can't think like that. It's impossible." "Those splendid chaps----" "S'sh! Remember only that they were killed doing one of the finest things a soldier is called to do," interrupted the soldier's widow, quickly. "Remember that their people would be proud to know how it happened. They volunteered to save you; took their chance. Think how your own people would have been proud, Mr. Awdas----" "Yes," he muttered, letting her hold his eyes, clinging to her for the strength that had slipped. She repeated, firmly: "When you see Australians in the street, think only of _that_!" "Yes," said the youngster, simply. "Yes.... All right, I will."