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Barrie, J. M. (James Matthew), 1860-1937

"Echoes of the War"

There
we were, all sitting up and asking whether we were alive or dead; and
some were one, and some were the other. Sort of fluke, you know.'
'I--I--oh, Dick!'
'As soon as each had found out about himself he wondered how it had gone
with his chums, I halloo'd to Johnny Randall, and he halloo'd back that
he was dead, but that Trotter was living. That's the way of it. A good
deal of chaff, of course. By that time the veil was there, and getting
thicker, and we lined up on our right sides. Then I could only see the
living ones in shadow and hear their voices from a distance. They sang
out to us for a while; but just at first, father, it was rather lonely
when we couldn't hear their tread any longer. What are you fidgeting
about? You needn't worry; that didn't last long; we were heaps more
interested in ourselves than in them. You should have heard the
gabbling! It was all so frightfully novel, you see; and no one quite
knew what to do next, whether all to start off together, or wait for
some one to come for us. I say, what a lot I'm talking!'
'What happened, Dick?'
'Oh!' a proud ring coming into the voice, 'Ockley came for us.


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