He had not failed to notice the
startled look in Cameron's eyes when Hobbs blurted out his news. Some
way must be found for the bracing up of the nerve, the steadying of the
courage of his friend.
"Come in with me, Cameron," he said, standing at the door of his hut.
"I'm dead beat and so are you. We'll have coffee and some grub, and then
sleep for a couple of hours until reveille."
Cameron hesitated. The thing he most longed for at that moment was to be
alone.
"Come on!" insisted Barry. "Hobbs will have a fire going, and hot coffee
in ten minutes. Come on, old chap. I want you to."
He threw his arm around Cameron's shoulder and dragged him in. The boy
dropped onto Barry's cot, and, as he was, boots and coat on, was asleep
before the coffee was ready. His boyish face, with its haggard look,
struck pity to Barry's heart, and recalled his father's words, "These
boys need their mothers." If ever a lad needed his mother, it was young
Cameron, and just in that hour.
He woke the boy up, gave him his coffee, had Hobbs remove his boots,
made him undress and covered him up in his blankets.
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