"Anything serious?"

"No, I guess not. Anyway I forgot about _them._ Doctor, I was shot
four times, once clear through. I'll show you. Got a bad bayonet jab
that doesn't seem to heal well. Then I had a dose of both
gases--chlorine and mustard--and both all but killed me. Last I've a
weak place in my spine. There's a vertebra that slips out of place
occasionally. The least movement may do it. I _can't_ guard against
it. The last time it slipped out I was washing my teeth. I'm in
mortal dread of this. For it twists me out of shape and hurts
horribly. I'm afraid it'll give me paralysis."

"Humph! It would. But it can be fixed.... So that's all they did to
you?"

Underneath the dry humor of the little doctor, Lane thought he
detected something akin to anger.

"Yes, that's all they did to my body," replied Lane.

Doctor Bronson, during a careful and thorough examination of Lane's
heart, lungs, blood pressure, and abdominal region, did not speak
once. But when he turned him over, to see and feel the hole in Lane's
back, he exclaimed: "My God, boy, what made this--a shell? I can put
my fist in it."

"That's the bayonet jab."

Doctor Bronson cursed in a most undignified and unprofessional manner.
Then without further comment he went on and completed the examination.