The wrench to his shattered leg was excruciating, "But then," as he announced to himself, "no snivelling, James; you're not going to make a spooney of yourself." Presently he moved, and lay quietly watching the others they were bringing in.
"Why!" he called, "that's Bertie Curtis, ain't it ?" as a slight, beautiful-faced boy was carried past him, and raised to his place.
"Yes, it is," answered one of the men, shortly, to cover some strong feeling.
Jim leaned out of his berth, regardless of his protesting leg, canteen in hand.

"Here, Bertie!" he called, "my canteen's full of fresh water, just filled.

I know it'll taste good to you." The boy's fine face flushed.

"O, thank you, Given, it would taste deliriously, but I can't take it,"-- glancing down.

Jim followed the look, to see that both arms were gone, close to the graceful, boyish form; seeing which his face twitched painfully,--not with his own suffering,--and for a moment words failed him.