“I have strict orders not to cause any trouble with the Bulgarians just at present,” he said, as if by way of apologetic explanation of his not having come to my aid. “We don’t inquire too closely into what is done east of the station-house.”
“Can you give me a place where my friend can rest?”
He looked uneasy at the question and hesitated.
“Can’t he bear any further journey?”
“He is badly wounded, sir,” I returned, with some indignation.
“I can do better than give him a bed here. My men shall carry him on a litter down to the village at the foot of the hill, where there is a priest who knows something of surgery, and he can get medical aid.”
“As quick as you can, for God’s sake!” I said.
Poor Zoiloff had fainted, and lay helpless in my arms, his head resting on my shoulder.
The men lifted him gently off the horse, the litter was brought out, and I helped to place him in it.
“I’m afraid I needn’t ask for his papers,” said the officer, as the men moved off.