"Bowinski," the man repeated, running his finger down a ledger, "A.
Bowinski, Surgical Ward 5-C. Through that door, two corridors to the
right midway down the second corridor."

Miss Mink started boldly forth to follow directions, but it was not
until she had been ejected from the X-ray Room, the Mess Hall, and the
Officers' Quarters, that she succeeded in reaching her destination. By
that time her courage was at its lowest ebb. On either side of the long
wards were cots, on which lay men in various stages of undress. Now Miss
Mink had seen pajamas in shop windows, she had even made a pair once of
silk for an ambitious groom, but this was the first time she had ever
seen them, as it were, occupied.

So acute was her embarrassment that she might have turned back at the
last moment, had her eyes not fallen on the cot nearest the door. There,
lying asleep, with his injured leg suspended from a pulley from which
depended two heavy weights, lay Bowinski.

Miss Mink slipped into the chair between his cot and the wall. After the
first glance at his pale unshaven face and the pain-lined brow, she
forgot all about herself. She felt only overwhelming pity for him, and
indignation at the treatment to which he was being subjected.

By and by he stirred and opened his eyes.

"Oh you came!" he said, "I mean you not to know I be in hospital. You
must have the kindness not to trouble about me."

"Trouble nothing," said Miss Mink, husky with emotion, "I never knew a
thing about it until to-day. What have they got you harnessed up like