'Thought you were dead long ago,' it said.
'No, no,' I answered, 'I'm alive - I know I'm alive - this is the
battlefield.
''Fraid I ain't goin' t' live,' he said. 'Got a terrible wound.
Wish it was morning.'
'Dark long?' I asked.
'For hours,' he answered. 'Dunno how many.'
He began to groan and utter short prayers.
'O, my soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the
morning,' I heard him cry in a loud, despairing voice.
Then there was a bit of silence, in which I could hear him
whispering of his home and people.
Presently he began to sing:
'Guide me, O thou great Jehovah!
Pilgrim through this barren land
I am weak but thou art mighty'
His voice broke and trembled and sank into silence.
I had business of my own to look after - perhaps I had no time to
lose - and I went about it calmly. I had no strength to move and
began to feel the nearing of my time. The rain was falling faster. It
chilled me to the marrow as I felt it trickling over my back. I
called to the man who lay beside me - again and again I called to
him - but got no answer.
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