The Cordova daily times., 1918-04-22

own medicine. Our boys a4e going over the top at dawn of the morning to take their trenches. We'll give 'em a taste of cold steel with their sausages and beer. You just sit tight now until they relieve you. I'll have to go now, lad, as it's nearly time for my relief, and dent want them to see me a-talkin' with you. So long, laddie, cheero."
 With this, the sentry resumed the pacing of his post. In about ten min utes' time he was relieved, and D company man took his place.
 Looking into the guardhouse, the | sentry noticed the covering attitude of Lloyd. and, with a sheer, said to him:
 "Instead of whimpering in that cor ner, you ought to be saying your pray CTS. It's bally conscripts like you what's spoilin' our record. We've been out here nigh onto eighteen months, | and you're the first man to desert his post. The whole battalion Is laughin' i and pOkin' fun at D company, bad luck to you! but you won't get another chance to disgrace us. They'll put yOHr lights out in the mOrnin'."
 After listening to this tirade, Lloyd. in q faltering voice, asked: "They are not going to shoot me, are they? Why, i the other sentry said they'd pardon me. For Gods sake-don't tell me I'm to be shot p and his voice died away in sob.
 ''Of course, they're going to shoot you. The other sentry was jest a-kid- din you. lest like old Smith. Always a-tryin' to cheer some one. You ain't i got no more chance O bein' pardoned than I have of gettin' to be colonel of my ''batt.'"
 When the fact that all hope was gone finally entered LlOyd's brain, a calm seemed to settle over him, and rising to his knees, with his arms stretched out to heaven, he prayed, and all of his soul entered into the prayer.
 70, good and merciful God, give me strength to die like a man! Deliver me from this towards death. Give me chance to die like my mates in the | fighting line, to die fighting for my GOuuIFy. ASK JnlS or Inee. l A peace, hitherto unknown, came to l him. and he crouched and covered no more, but calmly waited the dawn, ready to go to his death. The shells Were bursting all around the guard room, but he hardly noticed them. While waiting there, the voice of the sentry, singing in a low tone, came to him. He was singing the chorus of the popular trench ditty:
 I want to go home. want to go home I don't want to go to the trenches no more.
 Where the "whizzbangs" and "sausages" roar galore.
 Take me over the sea, where the Allemand can't get at me.
 Oh. my, dont want to die! I want to go home.
 Lloyd listened to the words with a strange interest, and wondered what kind of n home he would go to across the Great Divide. It would be the only home he had ever known.
 Suddenly there came a great rushing through the air, blinding, a deafen- ing report. and the sandbag walls of the guardrOOm tOppled over, and then .-blackneSs.
 When Lloyd recovered conscious ness, he was lying on his right side, facing what used to be the entrance of the guardroOm. Now, it was only tumble of rent and torn sandbags. His head seemed bursting. He slowly rose on his elbow, and there in the east the dawn was breaking. But what was that mangled shape lying over there among the sandbags? Slowly dragging himself to it, he saw the body of the sentry. One look was enough to know that he was dead. The soldiers head was missing. The sentry had had his wish gratified. He had "gone home" He was safe at last from the "whizz- bangs" and tho Allnm"~a
 (To be COntinued)