Evening bulletin. [volume] (Honolulu [Oahu, Hawaii]) 1895-1912, 1904-09-30
SHORT STORY FOR
EVENING HOURS
PROMOTION OF PRIVATE JONES

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W." 90
hau iittie 20 SNOW Ior MS experiences
as a soldier.
He had biistered at Durham. his teeth
had chartered in the rain which
swamped the yeIdt, and when he and
his fellows with a ringing cheer drove
the enemy away from the blockhouse
a bullet whose billet was Jones, |. y"
had found its destination, and the
young volunteer lay many parched
hours under a pitiless sky before the
observation-disclosures found him where he
fell.
When they did pick him up most OF
Private Jones life had oozed through
hole in his right breast. and II seemed
hardly worth while TO carry what re.
NAMED of Il to the big tent which
served as a field hospital.
But out of sonse of duty they bore
| him In, perfunctorily, for at each new
step the stretcher men suspected they
were Juggling "a dead un." As for
Jones, his pleasure had not been con.
suited. He had said Just one word
when they found him-"water"-and
after that ne tainted quietly and gent
ly, and lay quite still and white.
Now the leak I'm Private Jones' side
had moistened much soil with rich
blood, and had very nearly done for
poor Private Jones, but the whole phar.
macopeia holds no remedy for gunshot
Nv ounds quite equal to youth, and when
profession Is Doctor Hope.
These two pulled Jones around. After
some burning weeks they bundled him
roughly aboard an overcrowded trans
port, on which he got precious little
that was fit for an invalid to eat, and
put his ashore at Southampton.
Only the constitution of a draught
horse could have survived this double
linfiiction but Jones shut his teeth tight
and stood II as best he could. He
SC emed even to pick up a bit.
The truth Is that the hope which
had drawn its bow across the thrilled
strings of his eager heart was the hope
that in the dear home land Private
Jones would see Mary Farrell.
he thought Of her soft voice and the
balm.bearing touch Of her dear lips-if
only these could be his to know once
more, just once, why then he could die
happy II wouldn't matter SO much-at
least to him.
How Mary would feel about Il he
never paused to think. The fever had
him most o. the time, you know, and
fcvers and calm thinking are not close
bed fellows.
The big minute hand of the big clock
in the hospital dragged slowly around
the Roman dial many weary times be-
fore Private Jones parted company
with delirium and pain. Perhaps this
battle against odds might have been
sooner won had not youth fought alone.
Hope became a deserter early in the
action, for Mary did not come. When
| In his sane moments Private Jones real
Iized her neglect his heart grew bitter
within his bosom and rosy life looked
gray as ashes.
He obeyed his nurses sullenly, and
once his feeble hands tore of the ban.
cages of his wound. After that they
watched him closely. which was quite
foolish, for when one doesn't care to
live 1t Is well to let him die. The
bees and the ants and humble savage
people understand these things much
better than we.
However, one sunshiny day he
changed his mind, and determined to
get well for spite. He would grow
strong; he would arise and walk. The
faithless fair one he wound hunt and
he would haunt his unconcern in her
chagrlned face. There were other
girls-and he was hero, was he not?
There came a morning in September
when Jones, |. Y, was babe to go and
return no more. In addition to a
Heaven bless you they gave him an