"It was long, Bucky," Frawley admitted. "It was a good one!"
"Can't you understand anything?" Greenfield cried querulously. "Where's anything bigger, more than what we've done? And to have it end like this--to have a bug--a miserable, squashy bug beat you after all!"
For a long moment there was no sound, while Greenfield lay, twisting, his head averted, buried in the leaves.
"It's not right, Bucky," said Frawley at last, with an effort at sympathy. "It oughtn't to have ended this way."
"It was worth it!" Greenfield cried. "Three years! There ain't much dirt we haven't kicked up! Asia, Africa--a regular Cook's tour through Europe, North and South Ameriky. And what seas, Bub!" His voice faltered. The drops of sweat stood thickly on his forehead; but he pulled himself together gamely. "Do you remember the Sea of Japan with its funny little toy junks? Man, we've beaten out Columbus, Jools Verne, and the rest of them--hollow, Bub!"
"You are a rum un," said Greenfield with a broken laugh. The words began to come shorter and with effort. "Excitement, Bub! Deviltry and cussedness!"
"Half in hell already--stewing for my sins--but it's not that--it's--"
"That bug! Me, Bucky Greenfield--to go down and out on account of a bug--a little squirmy bug! But I swear even he couldn't have done it if the desert hadn't put me out of business first! No, by God! I'm not downed so easy as that!"
Frawley, in a lame attempt to show his sympathy, went closer to the dying man:
"Wouldn't you like to go out, standing, on your feet--with your boots on?"
"What's the matter, pal?" said Frawley, pausing in surprise.
"You darned old Englishman," said Greenfield affectionately. "Say, Bub."
"The dinkies are all right--but--but a Yank, a real Yank, would 'a' got me in six months."
"All right, Bucky. Shall I raise you up?"
"Would you like the feeling of a gun in your hand again?" said Frawley, raising him up.
This time Greenfield did not laugh, but his hand closed convulsively over the butt, and he gave a savage sigh of delight. His limbs contracted violently, his head bore heavily on the shoulder of Frawley, who heard him whisper again:
Then he stopped and appeared to listen. Outside, the evening was soft and stirring. Through the door the children appeared, tumbling over one another, in grotesque attitudes.