Page:War; or, What happens when one loves one's enemy, John Luther Long, 1913.djvu/375

THE LETTER DAVE WROTE under your arms, harder and harder as you go from a trot into a gallop! I wouldn't have harmed you then for the universe. And, believe me, brother, I would no more do it now. An hour ago that time seemed a long way back. Now, it's right here, and I am smiling as I write of it. Smile, Jon! Think of the fishing! You catching them all. Me bothering. Are you doing it? Smiling? I know you are. And that's the best time to say farewell—forever and forever farewell! I love you like a brother. There is no greater love. I kiss your faithful feet!

"Dave.

"P. S. Two o clock, A. M.

"Jonthy, dear, it's awful hard to go. I am shivering. It is ninety degrees below zero with me. But, at last, I'm in Evelyn's uniform. It fits me—a little tight. I stole it when I came up-stairs to bed. There's a stain of blood on the right side. Her blood. Part of her. I shall wear that until—what? I wonder what? Please marry her, Jonthy. Don't you wish we were little again? And slept together in the trundle bed? And there were no beautiful Southern Evelyns? And we could go fishing? And didn't have to go to war—shivering?

"Little Fat Dave.

"Ha, ha! Laugh, Jonthy, dear. 359