The San Francisco call., 1910-11-06

little place with big name in Samar
The paper just mentioned it."
'Larry?" Arnold stepped back his
lips frightened. At the bottom of the
attic stairs an old man felt his way
along. Sylvia's eyes shone with sym
pathy; she whispered: Larry?
heard you speak Of him-the soldier
My bunkY." muttered her lover. 81
left him at Cavite. Here's his father
The captain turned his clouded eyes
on them. His face, with the. noble
sweep OF hair, the mustaches, the
stained, gray imperial. had the grand
theatricism Of another era of strong
men; you would have marked him in q
street among a thousand His head
inclined; he had heard his name-his
right dnger-tips went to his bushy
brow.
The younger man saluted as gravely
In this bit of play to which neither OF
them ever directly adverted.
Sir, I heard today that a troop ship
had come from the Islands. Any news1
Is the Third squadron still in Samar
You mentioned my sons name as
entered
Miss Cranberry sent a frightened
warning to Arnold. The young man
looked calmly into the veterans halt
blinded eyes
There was some fighting. sir, in
Samar, and Larry-well. the squadron
was cut up a bit, understand"
'Eh?-and my SOM" The old mans
eager voice trembled.
The group was motionless. Arnold
cool tones broke the constraint.
II was going to tell you, Captain.
Larry can't return with the regiment
He'll be delayed bit-he was-well. q
bullet through the arm
''Wounded?"
ION the firing line. Just a scratch.
but-blood poisoning. They sent him
back to Cavite and cut off his arm
A proud JOY SHOT through the cap
tain's face. He cleared his throat
oracularly
AN arm?-bahi It'll make a man OF
the boy. A mere scratch-you should
have seen our colonel. sir, at Kenesaw-
his shoulder shot to ribbons
'1 know" faltered Arnold to this
familiar story But Larry can't come
as soon as we hoped. You'll be patient,
captain"
The captains grand air heightened
His fingers went to the little button OF
the Loyal legion on his coat. All, no, It
was nothingl He was a Georgian, but
he had fought for the north because
under that same flag his father
had fought with Jackson at New
Orleans. He had cut himself off from
his people. but after the war. angered
at the reconstruction, he had resigned
from the national service. They had
been hard years since, while film was
blotting the sun from his eyes, but he
had not complained. Never would he
accept a pension from a government
that had treated his south as It had
been treated; one could be proud, one
could be clean, one could be patient
1t was enough that one had served.
These were strange days nova COM
mercial gable OF corruption and the
ways of money, hard to understand;
and a man who had fought at Shiloh,
at the Wilderness and had caught his
dead colonel at Kenesaw, and was go-
Ing blind. had better stay from it.
He had one son, but Lawrence had
been wild fellow--a prof1igate with
this town man, Arnold, in camp and
barroom. Well, maybe he would re-
deem himself in the Philippines with
LaWton and Macarthur One could be
patient. The poverty of an attic was
nothing, loneliness was nothing, dark
ness was nothing. IL one could wait.
patient and clean, for this reckless boy
to come back redeemed on the firing
line in the honor of service.
The captain glanced about nodding
sagely. He was trying to conceal his
proud joy; 1T was better than one could
expect--to have ones son wounded in
such petty affair as this in Samar.
His hand went to the scar in his bushy
brow as he frowned to dissemble his
thoughts.
An arm gone-uul-um! I hope they