"
"Thank you, sir," said Barry. "I think I can catch it."
"Then good luck!" said the O. C., rising from his chair. "Every one
of us here would like to be in your place, but since it isn't himself,
every man is glad that it should be you."
Still Barry hesitated.
"I really hate to leave you, sir, just now," he said. "I mean that," he
added with a little nervous laugh.
"Oh, come on, Dunbar," said the O. C. in a voice whose gruffness might
signify almost any emotion, but with a touch upon his shoulder that
Barry knew meant comradeship. "Say good-bye to the boys here, and get
out."
They had just finished the plan for the campaign of the next night, and
every man in that little company knew that for him this might be his
last "Good-bye" to the chaplain. It only added to the depth of their
feeling that they knew that of all this Barry was unconscious. But,
whether it was that unconsciously he had gathered something of the real
significance of the situation, or whether it was that he himself had
reached the limit of emotional control, as he passed from man to man,
shaking hands in farewell, his lips refused to utter a single word, but
in his eyes were unshed tears that spoke for him.
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