About twenty cases already.

Oh, hang this rain!" said Harley, bitterly.
"But couldn't they take them--Forbes, I mean, and Robey--to the hospital ?" questioned Merryon.
"No.

To tell you the truth, Robey is pegging out, poor fellow.

It's always the best chaps that go first, though.

Heaven knows, we may be all gone before this time to-morrow." "Don't talk like a fool!" said Merryon, curtly.
And Harley said no more.
They pressed on through mud that was ankle-deep to the barracks.
There during all the nightmare hours that followed Merryon worked with the strength of ten.