there will get your death of cold. Better go to bed.'
'All right. In a minute. But your cuts—your cuts. How did you get wounded?'
'That was when we were taking the body back to the Fort. They came on again, and there was a bit of a scrimmage.'
'Did you kill any one?'
'Yes. Shouldn't wonder. Good-night.'
'Good-night. Thank you, Crandall. Thanks awf'ly, Crandall. Good-night.'
The unseen crowds withdrew. His own dormitory rustled into bed and lay silent for a while.
'I say, Crandall'—Stalky's voice was tuned to a wholly foreign reverence.
'Well, what?'
'Suppose a chap found another chap croaking with diphtheria—all bunged up with it—and they stuck a tube in his throat and the chap sucked the stuff out, what would you say?'
'Um,' said Crandall reflectively. 'I've only heard of one case, and that was a doctor. He did it for a woman.'
'Oh, this wasn't a woman. It was only a boy.'
'Makes it all the finer, then. It's about the bravest thing a man can do. Why?'
'Oh, I heard of a chap doin' it. That's all.'
'Then he's a brave man.'
'Would you funk it?'
'Ra-ather. Anybody would. Fancy dying of diphtheria in cold blood.'
'Well—ah! Er! Look here!' The sentence ended in a grunt, for Stalky had leaped out of bed
