"It's my brother I've got." The N.C.O., widely experienced in these tragic scenes, hesitated a moment.

An officer, coming up behind him, with a single glance took in the situation.
"My boy," he said kindly, placing his hand on Malcolm's arm, "we want to get these poor chaps as soon as possible where they will be comfortable." Malcolm sprang back at once, saluting.
"Yes, sir," he said.

"Certainly, sir." And backing across the tracks, stood looking across at the window from which his brother, wearied with his effort, had disappeared.
Meantime the R.A.M.

C.were busy with their work.

With marvellous rapidity and speed the train was unloaded of its pathetic freight, the carrying cases into ambulances and the walking cases into cars and wagons.
"Good-bye, Mac," called a voice as a car was driving off.