"Is there a soldier here named Yarry?" she began, then uttered a
little inarticulate cry as she saw Captain Hanfield kneeling beside
a man to whom all eyes directed her. "Oh, it's he," she sobbed,
kneeling beside him also. "As soon as I heard I felt it was he who
told me not to worry about him. Is--is he really dying?"
"Yes, I hope so, Miss Baron," replied the captain gravely. "He
couldn't live and it's time he had rest."
The girl bent over the man, her hot tears falling on his face. He
opened his eyes and looked vacantly at her for a moment or two, then
smiled in recognition. It was the most pathetic smile she had ever
imagined. "Don't worry," he whispered, "I'm just dozin' off."
"Oh, my poor, brave hero!" she said brokenly, "I know, I know it
all. God reward you, I can't."
"Don't want no reward. I be--say, miss, don't wear--yourself--out
fer us."
She took his cold hand and bowed her forehead upon it, sobbing aloud
in the overpowering sense of his self-forgetfulness. "O God!" she
cried, "do for this brave, unselfish man what I cannot.
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