But when that sinful soul went through the gates into Paradise, for very joy it forgot about the soldier, and threw away the sack somewhere in Paradise, where it may be lying to this day. And so the soldier, after waiting a long time, went slowly back to earth. Death would not take him. There was no place for him in Paradise and no place for him in Hell. For all I know he may be living yet. Printed for the Author at The Westminster Press, London W. and published by John G. Wilson at 77 Queen Street Cheapside E.C. Transcriber's notes: Punctuation errors repaired. "vokda" changed to "vodka" in "vodka, and a fine roast goose" _ is italic End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Soldier and Death, by Arthur Ransome