"
"I know you are R. C., Mac, but after all you know we have just the one
Father in Heaven and the one Saviour."
"Yes,--I know, Barry. It's all the same."
Barry had a sudden inspiration.
"Wait, Mac, a minute," he said.
He hurried out to the dressing room, seeking a crucifix, but could find
none there.
"I'll run across to Headquarters," he said.
"Say, there's a machine gun playing that street awful," said the M. O.'s
sergeant, "to say nothing of whizzbangs."
"Oh, that's all right," said Barry. "I'll make a dash for it."
But at Headquarters he was no more successful. He went out into the
garden in the rear of the R. A. P., and returned with two small twigs.
The M. O. bound them together in the form of a cross. Barry took it and
hastened to McCuaig's side.
The hurried breathing and sunken cheeks of the wounded man showed that
the end was not far. As Barry knelt beside him, he opened his eyes.
There was a look of distress upon his face, which Barry understood. God
was near.
Pages:
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453