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Updated: June 27, 2025
To the freeborn and freebred recruit from the Athabasca plains, the stiff and somewhat exaggerated military bearing of the sergeant major was at first a source of quiet amusement, later of perplexity, and finally of annoyance. For McFetteridge and his minutiae of military discipline McCuaig held only contempt. To him, the whole business was a piece of silly nonsense unworthy of serious men.
"We held them up, I guess. They thought they was going to walk right over us. They was comin' with their packs on their backs. But the boys changed their minds for them, I guess." A reminiscent smile lingered upon the long, eaglelike face. Half an hour later Barry found a minute to run into the adjoining room where the wounded lay. "Anything you want, McCuaig?" he asked.
"Wait, sonny; give me a chance," cried McCuaig, in a wild, high, singsong voice. Lifting his bottle to his lips, he continued to drink slowly, keeping his eye upon the two privates, who were considering the best method of carrying out their orders.
Barry, who with difficulty had restrained himself during the sergeant major's report, slipped from the room, found the M. O., to whom he detailed the story and dragged him off to visit the raging McCuaig. They found a corporal on guard outside. "I would not open the door, sir. He is really dangerous." "Oh, rot!" replied the M. O. "Open up the door!"
For some time after the prayer McCuaig lay with his eyes shut, then with a sudden accession of strength, he opened them and looking up into Barry's eyes, said: "Barry, I'm all right now. . . . You helped me again." The long thin hands, once of such iron strength, began to wander weakly over the blanket, until touching Barry's they closed upon it, and held it fast.
Of course, Britain has her navy, but then Germany has the next biggest in the world. Oh, it's going to be a terrific war." "I say," said McCuaig, putting his hand on Barry's shoulder. "You don't think it will bother us any to lick her?" "It will be the most terrible of all Britain's wars," replied Barry. "It will take every ounce of Britain's strength."
"I believe I'll wait." "Nonsense," said the major impatiently. "Take your leave when you get your chance, and have a good time. You have earned it." THE PASSING OF McCUAIG At Poperinghe the leave train was waiting in the station, and a little company of officers and men were having their papers examined preparatory to their securing transportation.
"There, sonny, fill that up again," cried McCuaig, good-naturedly, when he had finished his drink, tossing the second bottle at the head of the corporal, who, being on the alert, again made a successful disappearance. "Now, then, boys, come on," said McCuaig, backing toward the wall, and dropping his hands to his hips.
Duff nodded, and waved him away. The return trip was made in comparative quiet. "What do you think, doctor?" said Barry, after the M. O. had completed his examination. "Oh, we'll pull him through all right," said the M. O. "When did you get this, McCuaig?" he continued, touching a small wound over the kidney. "Dunno, rightly. Guess I got it when we was blown up, yesterday."
It took McCuaig some days to discover that in these frequent fatigues and special duties, he was undergoing punishment, but once made, the discovery wrought in him a cold and silent rage, which drove him to an undue and quite unwonted devotion to the canteen, which in turn transformed the reserved, self-controlled man of the wilds into a demonstrative, disorderly and quarrelsome "rookie" aching for trouble.
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