"Why not direct that a part of this stream be sent to the adjoining tent for registration, and for anti-tetanus hypodermics? These poor chaps are standing out in the rain, chilled to the bone and ready to drop."

"For Heaven's sake do it," said the O. C. "We are really up against it here. Can you take that off my hands?"

"I'll try," said Barry.

In a few minutes the congestion at the door of the marquee was relieved and the wounded men, to their own vast comfort, were bestowed upon the benches and chairs in the chaplain service tent. But something further was necessary to their comfort.

"Draper," said Barry to the chaplain in charge of the tent, "you see these men? They have had nothing to eat since last night. They have fought a battle, been wounded, and walked out some five miles or so, since then. It's eight o'clock now. What about it?"

"What about it?" exclaimed the chaplain. "You watch me!"

He ran to the Y. M. C. A. tent, enlisted the secretary's aid and in twenty minutes they together had transported to the chaplain service tent coffee and cocoa urns, and with an organised band of assistants were supplying the wounded with warming and comforting nourishment.

Never had those splendid services more quickly and effectively justified their place in the army.

With the wounded came rumours, more or less fantastic, of disaster.

Something terrible had befallen the whole Canadian line. It was difficult to get at the truth. As with all rumours, they contradicted each other and left the mind in a chaos of perplexity. The battalion had run into wire, where the machine guns had found it, the battalion was practically wiped out, it had found cover in a trench and was still holding on, the O. C. was wounded, the O. C. was killed, and with him every company commander.

Again and again, Barry sent men to the signals to learn the truth, but it was found impossible to get a message through. That an overwhelming disaster had befallen his battalion was abundantly evident from the numbers of wounded. With his heart growing numb with pain he struggled with his work. Gradually, he was forced to accept as true that a large proportion of the battalion were casualties, that the O. C. was wounded, possibly dying, that many of the officers had fallen and that the remainder were still holding a precarious position, and fighting for their lives.

"I shall not be moved," he had read to them last night. The promise was being fulfilled in the men of his battalion. They could die at the wire or in the trench, but they could not be moved. While mechanically carrying on his work, his mind was with the fighting, dying remnant of his comrades. The O. C. of the C. C. S. passing on his rounds found Barry carrying on with tears blinding his eyes so that he could hardly see the figures he was entering in his record.

"Your men are having a hell of a time, I hear," said the O. C. "I say, boy," he added, glancing at Barry's haggard face, "let up for a while."

"I'm all right, sir," said Barry, through his teeth. "Excuse me, really I'm all right. It is a bit difficult to carry on when you know that your friends are being cut to pieces, but I'm all right, sir."

"All right, my boy," said the O. C., "we're up against it to-day. I'll come for you in a few minutes, and we'll have a bit to eat."

Barry shook his head. He was too sick to eat, but the O. C. knew better than he just what he wanted. In a few minutes he returned with an assistant who took Barry's place.

"Come along, boy," said the O. C. cheerfully. "We have got to feed the living that we may care for the wounded and dying."

"You are quite right, sir," said Barry. "I am ashamed of myself. I'll be fit in a few minutes."

"Don't apologise for one moment," said the colonel, "if you felt any less deeply than you do, you'd be something less than a man. We'll get into touch with the Divisional Headquarters, and try to get the facts."

He had no sooner reached his private room than his signaller informed him that Divisional Headquarters had just been trying to get him. It took some time, however, to get the message through. Meantime, the Colonel was handling Barry with a wise and skillful touch. He made him eat and eat heartily, seeking to divert his mind in the meantime from the disaster that had befallen the battalion to the big issues at stake, and pointing out with resolute cheerfulness that the calamity that had befallen the battalion was only a temporary setback.

"We're winning, my boy, and we're paying the price," he said.

At length signals got the D. H. Q. and called the colonel to the phone.

After a few minutes' conversation, the O. C. called Barry.

"The general wants to speak to you, padre," and Barry with an apprehensive heart went to the phone.

"Oh, that you, Captain Dunbar?" It was the general's voice and somehow it carried with it an atmosphere of calm and cheerful confidence. "How are you getting on?"

"Oh, sir, very well. We are terribly anxious, of course."

"That's natural," said the general quietly. "We have had rather a serious reverse. Your whole brigade met with wire, and I fear they suffered heavily. The men behaved with great steadiness and are still splendidly holding. We are, of course, making every effort to relieve them, and with good hope of success."

"Have you heard of my O. C.?" inquired Barry.

"I fear rather bad news, Dunbar. Indeed, I fear he is seriously wounded.

We have sent him straight on to Contay. Your officers have suffered quite severely."

"Have you heard what the casualties are, sir?"

"Not exactly," replied the General. "We shall not know until evening, but we must be prepared for a heavy loss. By the way, can you be spared from the casualty clearing station? I hear you are doing fine work there. If you can run up, I can send my car for you."

"I'm afraid not, sir, just now. Perhaps later on in the afternoon."

"Let me speak to Colonel James," said the general.

The O. C. came to the phone.

"Yes, sir," he said.--"Well, we are short handed just now.--He is really necessary at the present moment.--Yes, later on we'll send him up.--Very well, sir.--We are doing our best."

The calm and confident bearing of his superior officer, made Barry ashamed of the unnerving emotion from which he had been suffering all morning. He returned to his work resolved to put aside all personal considerations. The thing in which they were engaged was vastly more important than the fate of any individual or of any battalion. Victory was necessary, was guaranteed, and was demanding its price. That price was being paid, and to that price every man must make his contribution.

Toward night the stream of wounded gradually grew less, and the O. C.

sent Barry, in a returning ambulance, up to the Divisional Headquarters.

The serenity with which the general received him did much to restore Barry's poise, which had been severely shaken by the strain of the night and day with the wounded in the casualty clearing station and by the heartracking agony he had suffered over the loss of his comrades.

"Come in, Dunbar," said the general kindly. "Take a seat for a few minutes. Have a cigar. These you will find are good, I think."

"Thank you, sir. I will take a cigarette, if I may," said Barry, helping himself from a box on the table.

He had not been many minutes in the dug-out until he began to catch the reactions of the place. The spirit was one of controlled but concentrated energy. It was the spirit of the divisional commander, and it passed from him to the humblest orderly in the room. There was swiftness of action, alertness of mind, and with these a complete absence of hurry or confusion. Runners were continually arriving with urgent messages, phones insisting upon immediate answer, officers coming in with business of vast importance, but with no sign of flurry, the work of the Divisional Headquarters went swiftly and smoothly on.

At length there was a pause in the rush of calls upon the general's attention.

"Come in this way," he said to Barry, and led him to a smaller room at the back of the dug-out.

"Very comfortable quarters these. They seem to have done themselves quite well, haven't they? It is most convenient, for we certainly should not have taken pains to construct such elaborate dug-outs as these we have fallen heir to. Find a seat, Dunbar. I have got the latest reports." His voice was very gentle and very kindly. "Yes," he continued, "we have had a bad night's work. Uncut wire and an enfilade from a redoubt which should have been blown up. The casualties are very heavy."

"What are they?" Barry asked.

"Quite heavy, Dunbar, I'm afraid. Only some fifty have reported so far."

"Fifty!" cried Barry. "Out of five hundred!"

"There will doubtless some more drop in," added the general, "but we must be prepared for a heavy loss, far heavier, both in officers and men, than we can afford. The Battalion Headquarters was terribly wrecked by a succession of direct hits. Only a few of the staff escaped unhurt.

Colonel Leighton was a fine officer. I had a great admiration, indeed, affection, for him. I know how you felt towards him, and he to you."

The steadiness in his voice brought quiet, but the kindness in it brought strength, and comfort. Barry became suddenly aware of the crushing load of responsibility upon this gentle-voiced man. He was eager to help.

"I wish I could help you, sir," he said. "I am sure we are all ready to do our best."