"Never mind, Daren. I see that you _did_.... I'm glad you're back
alive. Now what can I do for you?"

"I've been discharged from three hospitals in the last two months--not
because I was well, but because I was in better shape than some other
poor devil. Those doctors in the service grew hard--they had to be
hard--but they saw the worst, the agony of the war. I always felt
sorry for them. They never seemed to eat or sleep or rest. They had no
time to save a man. It was cut him up or tie him up--then on to the
next.... Now, Doc, I want you to look me over and--well--tell me what
to expect."

"All right," replied Doctor Bronson, gruffly.

"And I want you to promise not to tell mother or any one. Will you?"

"Yes, I promise. Now come in here and get off some of your clothes."

"Doctor, it's pretty tough on me to get in and out of my clothes."

"I'll help you. Now tell me what the Germans did to you."

Lane laughed grimly. "Doctor, do you remember I was in your Sunday
School class?"

"Yes, I remember that. What's it got to do with Germans?"

"Nothing. It struck me funny, that's all.... Well, to get it over. I
was injured several times at the training camp."