On a stretcher, waiting to be lifted into the ambulance, he found his father, lying white and still.
“Dad!” cried Barry, dropping to his knees beside him. He put his arms around him on the stretcher, and kissed him on both cheeks and on the lips. They all drew back from the stretcher and turned their backs upon the two.
“Barry, my boy. Thank the good God! I feared I would not see you. It's all right now. Everything is all right now. I can't put my arms around you, boy. I haven't any left.”
“Dad, dad, oh, dad!” he whispered, over and over again.
“It's all right,” whispered his father. “We must not forget we're soldiers. Help me to keep up, boy. I'm not very strong.”
That pitiful word did for Barry what nothing else could do. He lifted his head, stood up and drew a deep breath.
“Sure thing, dad,” he said, in a clear, steady voice. “I mustn't keep you.”
He motioned to the bearers. Then suddenly recollecting that his duty would call him away from his father, he turned to the M. O., an agony of supplication in his voice.
“Oh, doctor, must I leave him here?” he asked in a low tone.
Just then an orderly came running up to him, and, saluting, said:
“Sir, the Commanding Officer says you are to remain behind with your father--till--till--”
“Until you are sent for,” said the M. O. “I will see to that.”
“Where's the Commanding Officer?” cried Barry, starting forward.
“He has gone off somewheres, sir. He was sorry he couldn't come himself, but he was called away. He sent that message to you.”
“Doctor, will you remember to thank the Commanding Officer for me?” he said briefly, and turned to follow his father into the ambulance, which he discovered to be in charge of his friend, the sergeant of the R. A. M. C.
At the hospital he was received with every mark of solicitous care. He was made to feel that he was among friends.
“How long, doctor?” he asked, after the doctor had finished his examination.
“Not long, I'm afraid. A few hours, perhaps a day. He will not suffer though,” said the doctor. “But,” he added, taking Barry by the arm, “he is very weak, remember, and must not be excited.”
“I know, doctor,” said Barry, quietly. “I won't worry him.”
Through the morning Barry sat by his father's cot, giving him, under the directions of the nurse, such stimulants as he needed, now and then speaking a quiet, cheery word.