The Hays free press. [volume] (Hays, Kan.) 1908-1924, 1920-03-18

He opened his eyes and looked at me
with the strange look Of a man whose
thread Of consciousness is half unraveled
on. it's you. Edith" ne said. when he
mad taken me in Funny 1 thought il
was Irene 1 must have been dreaming
/ questioned him again about his wound
and began feeling his hair. It's not
there" he said Guess I got it all over
my hands They got me this time. Don't
waste time on me Some other fellow
may have a chance"
L found, with a little examination that
the case was as bad as he supposed. For
tunately. the wound had induced a local
paralysis and he was not suffering TO anv
great degree I placed my hand in his
and felt his grip tighten on it
m going TO stay till it's over. Dave
Well see 1t out together
That's decent" ne answered. and then
was still for quite a time
I've often wondered what was on the
other side" he said. at length Il shall
know presently
You are not afraid2'' whispered.
No Only sort Of-curious. Andrew
erent. I guess it's reverent You
know haven't been much on religion
Never seemed to get the formula What
IS the formula2 1 mean the key-the
thing that gives it all in one word2''
In one word-sacrifice- He that Ioseth
his life shall find it, - I quoted
He did not answer. but 1 could see his
lips smiling again. His breath was more
labored. A few drops of rain fell. and
some Of them spattered on his face
Presently he chuckled- 1t was an eery
sensation. out on that broad plain of
death, alone by the side of this man who
was already far into the shadow-to hear
him chuckle
That splash Of water-you remember
it made me think of the time we pulled
the old car into the stream, and the har-
ness broke or something, and I had to
carry YOU You remember that, Reenie2''
I could only say. Yes" and press his
~ is ind
trails
He became suddenly sober And when
Brownie was killed. he went on 81 said
II was the innocent thing that got caught
Perhaps was right But perhaps it's best
70 get caught Not for the getting caught
but for the-the compensatiOns. It's the
innocent men that are getting killed And
perhaps it's best. Perhaps there are com
pensatiOns worth while
His voice was weaker. and had to lean
close to catch his words
I'm going-out,'' he said. kiss me-
Reenie.''
And then I kissed him-for you
Suddenly he sat up 1.-The Mountains
he exclaimed, and his voice was athrin
with the pride of his old hills. See the
moOnlight-on the mountainsi''
Then his strength. which seemed to
have gathered itself for this one last
vision of the place of his boyhood, gave
way, and he fell back, and he did not
speak any more.
And what can I add? Dear. it is not
defeat 1t is promise. It is hope.
Some day we shall know But until
then we shall go on It is woman's bit
to carry on. But not in despondency not
In bitterness. not in anger or despair He
didn't go out that way. He was reverent
and a little curious, and he went out
with a smile. And we shall go on. and
carry his smile and his confidence through
the valley of our sacrifice What am
doing, speaking of our sacrificeZ
salute you. sister in the Order of Suf-
ferfng-and of hope.
EDITH DUNCAN.
handed the letter back to her, and
for time had no words "Won't you
let me tell the story?" I said, at
length ''The world is full of sorrow,
and it needs voices to give that sOrrow
words, and perhaps turn it into hope
as this letter does"
She hesitated, and I realized then how
much I had asked. cit is the story
Of my life-my SOUL she said. "Yet,
if it would help"
"WithOut names" I fastened to ex-
plain. without real names of places
or people,
And so. in that little whftewashed
home, where the brown hills rise
around and the placid mountains look
down from the distance, and a tongue
Of spruce trees beyond the stream
stands sentineIagainst the open prairie,
she is carrying on, not in dependency
and bitterness. but in service and in
hope And so her sisters. ali this world
over. must carry on, until their sweet
ness and their sacrifice shall fill up and
flood over all the valleys of hate. :.
=. And if you should chance that
way, and if you should win the con-
fdence of young Three-year-Old, he
may stand for you and say, with his
voice filed with the honor and the
glory and the pride of it:
'MY father was q soldier. He WAS