"Bravo!" said the Surgeon-Major. "That's the way to look at it,
Bobby."

As evening fell a gray shade gathered round Bobby's mouth, and he
turned his face to the tent-wall wearily. The Surgeon-Major
frowned.

"I'm awfully tired," said Bobby, very faintly. "What's the use of
bothering me with medicine? I - don't - want - it. Let me alone."

The desire for life had departed, and Bobby was content to drift
away on the easy tide of Death.

"It's no good," said the Surgeon-Major. "He doesn't want to live.
He's meeting it, poor child." And he blew his nose.

Half a mile away, the regimental band was playing the overture to
the Sing-song, for the men had been told that Bobby was out of
danger. The clash of the brass and the wail of the horns reached
Bobby's ears.

Is there a single joy or pain,
That I should never kno-ow?
You do not love me, 'tis in vain,
Bid me good-bye and go!

An expression of hopeless irritation crossed the boy's face, and
he tried to shake his head.

The Surgeon-Major bent down -" What is it, Bobby? "---" Not that