The captain was resolute, so Hal had to let it go that way. When he left the officer’s room he went up to the next floor to see Chick. The boy gazed at him with unrecognizing eyes. Whether he saw him at all or not is quite uncertain. But his shriveled and colorless lips were incessantly moving. “He babbles night and day,” said Miss Anderson, “mostly about Company E and his duties at the armory. He boasts that he is now a regular member of the company. He says you got him in. You are his hero, Lieutenant McCormack. He never tired of talking about you when his mind was clear. Even now yours is the name most frequently on his lips.” “Poor fellow!” replied Hal. “I am glad he has the satisfaction of believing that he has been admitted to membership in the company. It was almost his lifelong ambition to be a Guardsman.” “Well, he is one now to all intents and purposes. He says he must make haste to get well in order that he may return to his duties. His great fear and concern seem to be that the soldiers will go across the sea to fight, and that on account of his illness he will be left behind. If he were to believe that such a thing had happened it would absolutely break his heart.” Hal looked down on the gray face and unseeing eyes. “It will never happen,” he said. When he heard the sound of his own name issue feebly from the murmuring lips he bent his head to listen. “Yes, he got me in,” said the boy. “These are my khakis. That’s my gun. I drill; I march--I’ll go with ’em across the sea--an’ fight. Yes, that’s my flag; the ‘red, white an’ blue.’” He paused for a moment and then continued: “Was that taps? Well, I’m ready--I’m tired.” He turned his head on the pillow as if to go to rest. Hal took the unresponsive hand and pressed it gently, gazed, for a moment, with wet eyes, into the pinched, pathetic face, and came away. CHAPTER XVIII Three days after Lieutenant McCormack’s interview with Captain Murray, First Sergeant Barriscale, in pursuance of notice duly received, presented himself before his commanding officer, in his room at the hospital, for admonition and punishment in accordance with the Army Regulations. There was no bravado in his bearing, no attempt at bluster or denial. “I suppose I may as well plead guilty to the charges,” he said, “and take what’s coming to me.” Captain Murray looked up at him in astonishment. What had become of the boastful, self-satisfied scion of a wealthy family as he had known him scarcely three weeks before? He had expected to deal with a stubborn, defiant, aggressive offender; but here came a modest, pliant, soldierly young fellow, freely acknowledging his offense, and willing to pay the penalty. It was a strange circumstance. It changed materially the aspect of affairs. It set the captain to thinking. “But there are no charges,” he said at last. “McCormack refused to file any.” “Refused--to file any?”