“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. And God was terrible. He wanted his priest.
“Barry,” he whispered, “I've not--been a good man. I haven't been--mean to anybody,--but I used--to swear--and fight, and--”
“Mac, listen to me. We're all the same,” said Barry, in a quiet, clear voice. “Suppose I'd injured you.”
“But suppose I did some real mean thing to you, and then came and said I was sorry, would you forgive me?”
“Would I--I'd never think--of anything--you did--to me, Barry.”
“Mac, that's the way your Father in Heaven feels to you. We have all done wrong, but He says, 'I will blot out all your sins.' You needn't fear to trust Him, Mac.”
“I guess--that's so, Barry--I guess that's--all right.”
“Yes, it's all right. Now I'll say a prayer. Look, Mac!”
He held up the little wooden cross before his eyes. A smile of joy and surprise transfigured the dying face.
“I see it!--I see--it!” he whispered, and made a movement with his lips. Barry laid the cross upon them, and with that symbol of the Divine love and of the Divine sacrifice pressed to the dying lips, he prayed in words such as a child might use.
For some time after the prayer McCuaig lay with his eyes shut, then with a sudden accession of strength, he opened them and looking up into Barry's eyes, said:
“Barry, I'm all right now. . . . You helped me again.”
The long thin hands, once of such iron strength, began to wander weakly over the blanket, until touching Barry's they closed upon it, and held it fast.
“I--won't--forget--you--ever--” he whispered. The nerveless fingers with difficulty lifted Barry's hand to the cold lips. “Good--bye--Bar--ry--” he said.
“Good-bye, dear old comrade. Good-bye, dear old friend,” said Barry in a clear quiet voice, gazing through his falling tears straight into the dying eyes.