"Don't touch me!" screamed the other, striking back with his elbows.
"Don't come anigh me, my God! or I'll—"
He hobbled in, muffled to the feet in bandages.
II
He led into the parlour.
It was much the same, save that now a great clothes-horse, hung with soldiers' cloaks, made as it were a Sanctuary at one end of the room.
Piper's wheel-chair stood empty in the twilight Knapp let himself down in it with screwed face.
For a time he whimpered tearlessly. He was too weak to weep, and not strong enough to contain himself.
The Parson bent over him.
"Your heroism has not been in vain, my brave fellow," he said. "But for you Lord Nelson would be now in the hands of the French."
"Blast Nelson!" snarled the little rifleman. "What's Nelson to me? Blame fool that I were."