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While they ate, Duff kept a full tide of conversation going in regard to the causes of the war and its progress, as reported in the papers. Barry noticed that McCuaig's comments, though few, revealed a unique knowledge of European political affairs during the last quarter of a century. He noticed too that his manners at the table were those of a gentleman.
In the passage leading to McCuaig's compartment, he met four men, bearing on a stretcher toward the sick bay a long silent form. "Who have you got there, corporal?" he inquired in a tone of kindly interest. "McCuaig, sir." "McCuaig?" roared the sergeant major. "And who " "Medical officer's orders." "Silence there," said a sharp voice in the rear. "Carry on, men."
Say, he's sleepin' with that Lewis gun ever since. Just pets it like a baby. What was I tellin' you? Oh, yes, about McCuaig and Jim Berry. Well, he took McCuaig's place snipin' and a good sniper he was too. He used to hunt, you know, up in the mountains with Jim Knight every fall.
Barry took it and hastened to McCuaig's side. The hurried breathing and sunken cheeks of the wounded man showed that the end was not far. As Barry knelt beside him, he opened his eyes. There was a look of distress upon his face, which Barry understood. God was near. And God was terrible. He wanted his priest. "Barry," he whispered, "I've not been a good man.
After supper they packed their stuff over the long portage, leaving their tent and sleeping gear, with their food, however, to be taken in the morning. For a long time they sat over the fire, Barry reading, for McCuaig's benefit, the newspaper accounts of the Belgian atrocities, the story of the smashing drive of the German hosts, and the retreat of the British army from Mons.
This to a man of McCuaig's experience in every bar and camp and roadhouse from Edmonton to the Arctic circle, was not to be endured. He leaned over the improvised bar, until his face almost touched the corporal's. "What?" he ejaculated, but in the single expletive there darted out such concentrated fury, that the little corporal sprang back as from a striking snake.
"You're just right, they are," replied Duff, "and will till we stop them." McCuaig's eyes were glowing with a deep inner light. They were wonderful eyes, quick, darting, straight-looking and fearless, the eyes of a man who owes his life to his vigilance and his courage.
"I remember well, Barry. I often think of it. It's a long time ago," said McCuaig in his soft, slow voice. "I've never been sorry but once that I come, and that time it was my own fault, but I didn't understand the game." "You've made a great soldier, Mac. We are all proud of you," said Barry, putting his hand upon McCuaig's. McCuaig's long thin fingers tightened upon Barry's hand.
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