"I guess that's so," replied Peter. "Maybe it was a German. It means a lot to the Kaiser to keep me out of this war." His father smiled. "Joking aside, lad," he said, "who do you suppose it was? What was the bullet? Many a murderer has been traced before now on a less likely clue than a bullet." "Isn't the bullet on the table there, Mr. Hammond? The doctor gave it to me, and I chucked it somewhere--over there or somewhere." They looked in vain for the bullet. Later, when the guests and the household were at supper, Mr. Hammond excused himself from table and ran up to Peter's room. He closed the door behind him, leaned over the bed and grasped Peter's left hand in both of his. "I did my best," he whispered. "I found him and told him you had been sent because the officer wanted to give him a chance. But he had been drinking heavy. He wasn't himself, Peter--he was like a madman. I begged him to come back with me, but he wouldn't hear reason or kindness. He knocked me down--me, his own father--and got away from that house. What are you going to do, Peter? You are a man, Starkley--a big man--big enough to be merciful. What d'you mean to do?" "Nothing," said Peter. "I came to find Jim, and I haven't found him. I got shot instead by some one I haven't seen hair, hide or track of. It's up to the army to find Jim, if they still want him; but as far as I am concerned he may be back with the battalion this minute for all I know. I hope he is. As for the fellow who made a target of me, well, he didn't kill me, and I don't hold a grudge against him." Mr. Hammond went home the first thing in the morning. John Starkley waited until the doctor called again and dressed the wound and said he had never seen any one take a splintered rib and a hole in the side so well as Peter. "If he keeps on like this, you'll be able to take him home in ten days or so," said the doctor. So John Starkley returned to Beaver Dam, delivered the good news to his family and heard in return that young Frank Sacobie had gone to St. John and joined the 26th. CHAPTER III THE VETERANS OF OTHER DAYS WHEN Peter was able to travel, he was taken home to Beaver Dam, and there a medical officer, a major in spurs, examined him and congratulated him on being alive. Peter was given six months' sick leave; and that, he knew, killed his chance of crossing the ocean with his battalion. He protested, but the officer told him that, whether in bed in his father's house or with his platoon, he was still in the army and would have to do as he was told. The officer said it kindly and added that as soon as he was fit he should return to his battalion, whether it was in Canada, England or Flanders.