"Boys, did you have a good time to-night?"

"Yes, sir; you bet we had, sir."

"Well, then, if you had, sing this," and recited for them the first verses of the old hymn,

"Abide with me, fast falls the even tide."

When they had sung the first verse, he said again:

"Now sing these words," and once more he recited the stirring verse:

"I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless."

When they had finished the verse, he said to them

"Shall we have another?"

"Go on, sir!" they said. "Sure thing!" "Finish it up!"

"Then," said Barry, "sing these words":

"I need Thy presence every passing hour, What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power."

Then when he had finished the verse, he dropped the violin and, moving to the edge of the platform, said, in a voice vibrant with emotion:

"Don't sing these words, but say them as I play them for you."

He then recited the moving words with which the old hymn closes:

"Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes; Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies; Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee, In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me."

"I want every one of you to say the words to himself as I play them."

In long-drawn, tremulous notes he voiced the beautiful plea for aid in the hour of man's supreme need, which finds expression in the first two lines. Then, with his bow gripping the strings in a great sweeping crescendo, he poured forth in full strong chords the triumphant faith with which the hymn closes.

He laid his violin on the piano, stood quite a few moments looking upon them, then said:

"Men, listen to these great words. They might have been written for us, and for these days;" and he recited to them the words of the Hebrew psalm, eloquent of courage in the face of a crumbling world:

"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.

Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Selah.

There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High.

God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved. God shall help her and that right early.

The heathen raged, the kingdoms were moved; he uttered his voice, the earth melted.

The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah.

Come, behold the words of the Lord, what desolations he hath made in the earth.

He maketh wars to cease unto the end of the earth; he breaketh the bow, and cutteth the spear in sunder: he burneth the chariot in the fire.

Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.

The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge."

Then they followed him in the General Confession, and the Lord's prayer.

"Captain Dunbar," said the O. C., offering him his hand, "you have done for us to-night a greater thing than you know just now. You will understand better tomorrow. With all my heart I thank you on the men's behalf and on my own behalf, for I assure you I needed it as much as they did. I want to assure you, too, sir, that I received to-night the thing I needed."

"Thank you, sir," said Barry simply, too weary to utter another word, and staggered out, half dead with exhaustion.

Half an hour later, as he was leisurely undressing, and drinking the cup of cocoa which Monroe had prepared for him, a message summoned him to the orderly room. There he found Colonel Leighton with Major Bayne and the company commanders.

"I have a communication here for you, Captain Dunbar," said the O. C., "from your D. A. C. S.," and he passed him a little slip.

It was the announcement of his "leave."

"Well, what do you think of that?" said the O. C. "How does that suit you?"

"Well, sir," said Barry, uncertainty and hesitation in his voice, "I'd like the leave, all right, but can I conveniently be spared just now?"

"Most certainly," said the O. C., "and, what's more, I want you to go to-night. Can you get ready?"

"I suppose so, sir," said Barry, wearily.

"By Jove! listen to him," said the O. C. "He hates to leave us, doesn't he?" And they all laughed. "Now, Dunbar," he said, "no more posing. You catch the leave train to-night at Poperinghe. As a matter of fact, I think it starts somewhere about twelve."

"Thank you, sir," said Barry. "I think I can catch it."

"Then good luck!" said the O. C., rising from his chair. "Every one of us here would like to be in your place, but since it isn't himself, every man is glad that it should be you."

Still Barry hesitated.