“Ah was right smart 'askeered ye wouldn't find it, Andy.” “So this is where you live?” “Um hum, a bunch of us lives here.” A wide bed without coverings, where a man in olive-drab slept rolled in a blanket, was the only furniture of the room. “Three of us sleeps in that bed,” said Chrisfield. “Who's that?” cried the man in the bed, sitting up suddenly. “All right, Al, he's a buddy o' mine,” said Chrisfield. “He's taken off his uniform.” “Jesus, you got guts,” said the man in the bed. Andrews looked at him sharply. A piece of towelling, splotched here and there with dried blood, was wrapped round his head, and a hand, swathed in bandages, was drawn up to his body. The man's mouth took on a twisted expression of pain as he let his head gradually down to the bed again. “Gosh, what did you do to yourself?” cried Andrews. “I tried to hop a freight at Marseilles.” “Needs practice to do that sort o' thing,” said Chrisfield, who sat on the bed, pulling his shoes off. “Ah'm go-in' to git back to bed, Andy. Ah'm juss dead tired. Ah chucked cabbages all night at the market. They give ye a job there without askin' no questions.” “Have a cigarette.” Andrews sat down on the foot of the bed and threw a cigarette towards Chrisfield. “Have one?” he asked Al. “No. I couldn't smoke. I'm almost crazy with this hand. One of the wheels went over it.... I cut what was left of the little finger off with a razor.” Andrews could see the sweat rolling down his cheek as he spoke. “Christ, that poor beggar's been havin' a time, Andy. We was 'askeert to get a doctor, and we all didn't know what to do.” “I got some pure alcohol an' washed it in that. It's not infected. I guess it'll be all right.” “Where are you from, Al?” asked Andrews. “'Frisco. Oh, I'm goin' to try to sleep. I haven't slept a wink for four nights.” “Why don't you get some dope?” “Oh, we all ain't had a cent to spare for anythin', Andy.” “Oh, if we had kale we could live like kings--not,” said Al in the middle of a nervous little giggle. “Look, Chris,” said Andrews, “I'll halve with you. I've got five hundred francs.” “Jesus Gawd, man, don't kid about anything like that.” “Here's two hundred and fifty.... It's not so much as it sounds.” Andrews handed him five fifty-franc notes. “Say, how did you come to bust loose?” said Al, turning his head towards Andrews. “I got away from a labor battalion one night. That's all.”