"There is some one here that you know well." "Some one I know," said Barry, standing still and looking from one to the other.
"Ay, sir.

Some one we all know and greatly respect," replied the sergeant major.
"Not--not--oh, not my father!" The M.O.

nodded.
"Bad, doctor?
Not dying, doctor ?" His face was white even in spite of his tan.

His hands closed about the doctor's arm in a grip that reached to the bone.
"No, not dying, Barry, but in a bad way, I fear." "Take me," muttered Barry, in a dazed way, and they moved together rapidly across the platform.
"Wait a moment, doctor," said Barry, breathing hard.
They stood still, a silent and sympathetic group of soldiers about them.
Barry turned from them, walked a few steps, his clasped hands writhing before him, then stood with his face uplifted to the sky for a few moments.
"All right, doctor, I'll follow," he said, coming quietly back.

"Will he know me ?" "Sure thing, sir," said the sergeant major cheerily.