It was not his will to be ungrateful; it
was beyond his present power to show the gratitude which he really
felt. And Carew, with the supreme insight which marks the friendship
of men at times, interpreted Weldon's mood aright and forebode to
take offence.
Nevertheless, watching his friend closely, Carew had judged the case
to be serious. He had felt no surprise at the state of collapse in
which Weldon had struggled back into camp. The battle, the half-
dressed wounds, the nerve-racking journey, the watching the slow
approach of death and the accepting the fact of the loss of a valued
friend: all these were enough to wreck the vitality of a man. With
an almost womanish tenderness, Carew had brought his friend back to
the tent, and made him over to the care of Paddy who gave up all
things else, for the sake of his little Canuck. All that afternoon
and night, Weldon lay passive, inert, while Paddy bathed him, fed
him, poured cool, soft things over his wounds, fed him again, and
then sat down beside him with his own stubby hand resting against
Weldon's limp fingers. But, the next morning, Weldon rose, buttoned
and belted himself with elaborate care.
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