They had carried poor old Wilders in a litter to one of the hospital marquees in the rear of the Second Division camp. The aide-de-camp found him perfectly conscious, with two doctors by his side.
McKay was allowed to enter into conversation with his chief.
"How does it go?" asked the old general, feebly, but with eager interest.
"The enemy are in full retreat, sir; beaten all along the line."
"Thank Heaven!" said the general, as he sank back upon his pillow.
"How are you, sir?"
"Very weak. My fighting days are done."
"You must not say that, sir; the doctors will soon pull you round. Won't you?" said McKay, looking round at the nearest surgeon's face.
"Of course. I have no fear, provided only the general will keep quiet, and—"
"That means that I should go," said the aide-de-camp. "I shall be close at hand, sir, for I mean to be chief nurse," and he left the tent.