“Dunno, rightly. Guess I got it when we was blown up, yesterday.”
“Then why didn't you come in at once?” inquired the M. O. indignantly.
“Why, they was all blown up, and there wasn't anybody to run the gun.”
The M. O. examined the wound more closely and shook his head at Barry.
“We won't touch that now. We'll just bandage it up. Are you feeling pretty comfortable?”
“Fine,” said McCuaig with cheerful satisfaction. “We held them up, I guess. They thought they was going to walk right over us. They was comin' with their packs on their backs. But the boys changed their minds for them, I guess.”
A reminiscent smile lingered upon the long, eaglelike face.
Half an hour later Barry found a minute to run into the adjoining room where the wounded lay.
“A drink, if you ain't too busy, but I hate to take your time.”
“Oh, you go to thunder,” said Barry. “Take my time! What am I for? Any pain, Mac?”
Barry turned the flash-light on his face. He was startled to find it grey and drawn. He brought the M. O., who examined the wounded man's condition.
“All right, boy, just lie still,” said the M. O., beckoning Barry after him.
“He is going out,” he said when they reached the dressing room, “and he's going fast. That wound in the back has been bleeding a long time.”
“Oh, doctor, can't anything be done? You know he's got a remarkable constitution. Can't something be done?”
“There are times when a doctor wishes he had some other job,” said the M. O., “and this is one of them.”
“I say, doctor, will you get along without me for a while?” said Barry.
Barry took a candle and went in beside his friend. As he sat there gazing upon the greying face, the wounded man opened his eyes.
“That you, Barry?” he asked with a quiet smile.
Barry started. Only in the very first weeks of their acquaintance had McCuaig called him by his first name, and never during the past months had he used anything but his rank title. Now all rank distinctions were obliterated. They were as man to man.
“Yes, Mac, it's me. Do you know what I was thinking about? I was thinking of the first time I saw you coming down that rapid in your canoe.”
“I remember well, Barry. I often think of it. It's a long time ago,” said McCuaig in his soft, slow voice. “I've never been sorry but once that I come, and that time it was my own fault, but I didn't understand the game.”