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Well, I've got that
off my stomach, and I feel better," added the M. O., with a slight
laugh.
"But, doc, I want to say this," said Barry. "I don't believe that the
percentage of men who go in for this sort of thing is large. I've been
making inquiries from our chaplains and they all agree that we have a
mighty fine and clean body of men in our Canadian army."
"Right you are! Of course, it is only a small percentage, a very small
percentage--a much smaller percentage than in our civilian population
at home. But small as it is, it is just that much too many. Hell and
blazes! These men are soldiers. They have left their homes, and their
folks, to fight. Their people--their people are the best in our land.
There's that young Pentland. A finer young chap never threw a leg over
a broncho. He's in that tent hospital to-night. I know his mother. Three
sons she has given. Oh, damn it all," the doctor's voice broke at this
point. "I can't speak quietly. Their mothers have given them up, to
death, if need be, but not to this rotten, damnable disease.


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