“What do you think of it, Aleck?”

“I think it would be irregular, or perhaps I should say exceptional,” said another voice; “the regulations cannot provide for miraculous contingencies.”

“The whole thing’s irregular,” said the doctor; “it’s impossible to make it regular until his company is found.  What else can you suggest?”

“I don’t know.  Can’t we wait?”

“Wait for what?”

“Wait till we find his people.”

“He’ll be fit for duty in two days.  What’ll we do with, him then?—­turn him loose?  He wouldn’t know what to do with himself.  I tell you we can’t find his regiment, or, at least, we haven’t found it, and that he is fit for duty, or will be in a few days; he is not a fit subject for the general hospital, and I wouldn’t risk sending him there; Powell would wonder at me.”

“Can’t you keep him a while longer?”

“I can keep him a few days only; I tell you there is nothing the matter with him.  If I discharge him, what will he do?  He ought to be attached—­he must be attached, else he cannot even get food.  It will all necessarily end in his being forced into the ranks of some company, and I want to see him placed right.”

“I will not object to taking him if I can get him properly.”

“Somebody’ll get him.  Besides, we can’t let him leave us before he has a place to go to.  I think I have the right, in this miraculous contingency, as Aleck calls it, to hand him over to you, at least temporarily.  Of course you can’t keep him always.  Sooner or later we’ll hear of some regiment that is seeking such a man.  His memory will return to him, so that he’ll know where he belongs.”

“Yes—­I suppose so.  I am willing to receive him.  When. his company is found, of course I shall be compelled to let him go.”

“If provision is not made for him, he must suffer.  I shall fear for him unless we can settle him in some way such, as I propose.  Am I not right, Aleck?”

“Can’t you keep him with you as some sort of help?”

“I would not propose such, a thing to him.  There could be nothing here for him except a servant’s place.  He is my man, and I’m going to treat him better than that.  By the way, I believe he is awake.”

My eyes were wide open.  The doctor turned to me and said, “How do you feel now, Jones?”

“Am I here yet?” I muttered.

“Yes.  Did you expect to be in two places at once?”

“Where are the others?”

“What others?”

“The five men.”

“What five men?”

“The five men on the pallets.”

“Oh!—­been sent to the general hospital.”

“Yes,” said I, mournfully; “everything that comes goes again.”

“Sound philosophy,” said he; “you are getting strong and well.  Don’t bother your head about what happened last century or last year.”

He went to the door and called William.