Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1946-04-12

him everything she had. She was
too loyal, and she loved him too
much, to dream of doing otherwise.
She would work, and use everything
she could earn for his support. She
would spend her life nursing him,
amusing him, taking care of him,
himself broken wreck of a crea-
ture who could give her nothing in
return except a doglike gratitude.
Her splendid vitality would be spent
in twilight of haf-living until she
was dry and withered like fruit that
had been broken off the tree before
1t had had chance to ripen. As he
thought of it he knew more and more
surely that no matter what would
become of him, he could not let this
happen to her.
His decision was not entirely un-
selfish. Arthur was too clear-headed
to imagine it was. Not only could
he not do this to Elizabeth, but he
could not do it to himself. Bearing
his tragedy alone would be easier
than requiring her to share it.
He knew, almost as if he were
with her, what she would suffer at
being told Of his death. But that
would not last forever, though at the
time she would undoubtedly think it
was going to. She would pick up
the broken pattern Of her life and set
about putting it together again.
Elizabeth was young, vital, alert,
and there would be another man who
would find her as lovable as he
had found her. She would have again
the sort Of mating she should have.
He tried instinctively to clench his
fist with decision, and the pain that
went like bayonet-thrust into his
shoulder, reminding him that he was
not even able to make such simple
gesture, served to strengthen his re-
solve. When a man dies, he told
himself, with more fierceness in his
mind since there could be none in
his body, it is like taking a teaspoon
full of water out of river. The wa
ter closes up, it is gone, and after
an instant, nobody notices it any
more.
When Jacoby came in again, Ar
thur told him what he had decided
to do. He had to speak slowly, re-
peating often and waiting until ia
coby's intelligence had limped
through to comprehension. The eff
fort to make Jacoby understand took
his attention away from the bleak
import of what he was saying.
II will make you a promise, ia
CODY, if you will do one thing for me.
Do it, and come back and tell me
you have done it."
IT understand you. Go ahead"
"When was brought in here, you
found the metal tag of Identification?
And other things, maybe? Take
those to the International Red Cross.
Tell them your stretcher-bearers
brought in an American who died Of
his wounds. You do not know his
name. But you took these objects
from his body. You will sign a death
certificate, or whatever you have to
sign. The American army will take
care of the rest. If you will do this,
and bring me some sort of proof that
you have done it, promise you that
I will let you do whatever you
please to me. But if you will not
do it, I swear to you that I'll make
you do it because I'll end my life
as soon as l have a disable hand to
do it with"
Deliberately, further to relieve his
attention, he fixed his eyes on ia
coby's eyes, tender as the eyes of
mother; on Jacoby's strong, wise,
gentle face; and while he repeated
his sentences he noticed again what
a thin face it was, the skin showing
the Weakness of malnutrition, and
guessed as he had guessed before
that this man was denying himself
part of his own rations to provide
more nourishment for the men he
was trying to save. At last he said,
slowly and carefully, "You under
stand me? You will do what I ask,
Jacoby?"
Jacoby used one of the precious
night hours when he should have
been asleep to rig up sort Of shelf
across Arthur's cot, and set the die
tionary up on it. my English is
SO faulty, Kit, and have no time
to improve it. Why do you not learn
to talk to me?"
He read the first words aloud to
him, slowly, so Arthur could begin
to learn their pronunciation. While
he was taking a hasty meal of tur-
nips and potatoes Jacoby drew
rough sketches of various objects in
the room, writing their names beside
them, and set the sheet up for Arthur
to study during the day.
ITO BE CONTINUED