The review. [volume] (High Point, N.C.) 1908-19??, 1918-07-25
CHAPTER XXIV-Continued.

On his left, in the darkness, he could
make out the shadowy forms or trees;
crawling on his hands and knees, stop
ming and crouching with fear at each
aheIlburst, he finally reached an old
orchard and covered at the base or
shot-scarred apple tree.
He remained there all night, listen
ing to the sound Of the guns and ever
praying, praying that his useless life
would be spared.
As dawn began to break, he could
discern little dark objects protruding
from the ground all about him. Curl
nsitv mastered his fear and he crawled
to one of the objects, and there, in the
uncertain light, he read on a little
wooden cross:
"Pte. 81. S. Wheaton, No. 1870, list
London Regt. r. 3. Killed in action.
A1ril IS, 1915. r. I. P" Crest in
Pence).
Nhen it dawned on him that he had
been hiding all night in a cemetery
mis- reason seemed to leave him, and
mad desire to be free from it all made
him rush madly away, falling over lit
tie wooden crosses, smashing some and
trampling others under his feet.
In his flight he came to an old
French dugout, half caved in and par
TALLY filed with shiny and filthy wa
ter.
Like a fox being chased by the
hounds, he ducked into this hole, and
threw himself on a pile Of old empty
sandbags, wet and widowed. Then
Inconsistencies.
On the next day, he came to; far
distant voices sounded in his ears.
Opening his eyes, in the entrance of
the dugout he saw corporal and two
men with fixed bayonets.
The corporal was addressing him:
"Get up, you white-livered blighter!
Curse you and the day you ever joined
D company, spelling their fine rec
ord It'll be you up against the wall,
and good job too. Get hold of him,
men, and If he makes a break, give him
the bayonet, and send it home, the COW
ardly sneak. Come on, you, move.
we've been looking for you long
enough"
Lloyd, trembling and weakened by
his long fast, tottered out. assisted by
soldier on each side of him.
They took him before the captain.
but could get nothing out Of him but:
For Gods sake, sir, don't have me
shot, don't have me shot!"
The captain, utterly Disguised with
him, sent him under escort to division
headquarters for trial by court-mar-
tfal, charged with desertion under fire.
They shoot deserters in France.
During his trial, Lloyd sat as one
dazed, and could put nothing forward
IN his defense, only an occasional
Don't have me shot!'
His sentence was passed: ITO be
shot at 8 :3S o'clock in the morning of
May IS, 1916" This meant that he
had only one more day to live.
He did not realize the awfulness of
his sentence; his brain seemed para
1yzed. He knew nothing Of his trip,
under guard, in a motor lOrry to the
Sandbagged guardroom in the village,
where he was dumped on the floor and
left, while a sentry with a fixed bayo-
net paced up and down in front of the
entrance
Bully beef, water and biscuits were
left beside him for his supper.
The sentry, seeing that he ate moth
ing, came inside and shook him by the
shoulder, saying in a kind voice:
Cicero, laddie, better eat some
thing. You'll feel better. Don't give
up hope. You'll be pardoned before
morning. I know the way they run
these things. They're only trying to
scare you, that's all. Come now, that's
good lad, eat something. It'll make
the world look different to you"
The gOod-hearted sentry knew he
was lying about the pardon. He knew
nothing short of a miracle could save
the poor lad.
Lloyd listened eagerly to his sentry's
words, and believed them. A look Of
nope came into his eyes, and he raven
ously ate the meal beside him.
In about an hours time, the chap
ld'n came to see him, but Lloyd would
nave none of him. He wanted no par
son he was to be pardoned.
Inc artillery behind the lines sud-
Ueniy opened up with everything they