"That you--Glenn Kilbourne-
should ever go in for--for hogs! . . . It's unbelievable. How'd you
ever--ever happen to do it?"
"By Heaven! you're hard on me!" he burst out, in sudden dark, fierce
passion. "How'd I ever happen to do it? . . . What was there left for me? I
gave my soul and heart and body to the government--to fight for my country.
I came home a wreck. What did my government do for me? What did my
employers do for me? What did the people I fought for do for me? . . .
Nothing--so help me God--nothing! . . . I got a ribbon and a bouquet--a
little applause for an hour--and then the sight of me sickened my
countrymen. I was broken and used. I was absolutely forgotten. . . . But my
body, my life, my soul meant all to me. My future was ruined, but I wanted
to live. I had killed men who never harmed me--I was not fit to die. . . .
I tried to live. So I fought out my battle alone. Alone! . . . No one
understood. No one cared. I came West to keep from dying of consumption in
sight of the indifferent mob for whom I had sacrificed myself. I chose to
die on my feet away off alone somewhere. . . . But I got well. And what
made me well--and saved my soul--was the first work that offered.
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