"He didn't give us
those letters for nothing."
"A bad job, an awfully bad job for us all! curse the eyes that
aimed that shell!" growled practical Jim. "Here, take hold. We'll
put him in that little dry ditch we just passed, and bury him
after the fight, if still on our pins. We can't leave him here to
be tramped on."
This they did, then hastily rejoined their company, which had
swept on with the battle line. Alas! that battle line and others
also were driven back with terrible slaughter before the day
closed. Captain Nichol was left in the ditch where he had been
placed, and poor Sam Wetherby lay on his back, staring with eyes
that saw not at a shattered bird's nest in the bushes above his
head. The letter in his pocket mouldered with him.
Jim's begrimed and impassive face disguised an aching heart as he
boiled his coffee alone that night. Then, although wearied almost
to exhaustion, he gave himself no rest until he had found what
promised to be the safest means of forwarding the letter in his
pocket.
CHAPTER II
LOVE AT HOME
Long years before the war, happy children were growing in the
village of Alton.
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