“We’ll stick together,” he cried. “What ails the man?”
He was lying on his heap, flushed and with his eyes closed. Now and again his lips would mutter meaningless fragments of speech.
“This is a girl in breeches,” said Luvaine. “We should have set him on a jackass.”
“It wouldn’t have been courteous to throw all the burden on you, sir,” said Tuke politely.
Blythewood burst out laughing.
“David,” said the soldier in a high voice, “there have been those who have learnt before now the danger of riding me roughshod, and——”
A fresh explosion greeted him, and he stopped, frowning heavily.
“Captain Luvaine,” said Tuke, looking round, “I would remind you that this man, knowing himself of a poor constitution, has cheerfully submitted it to considerable hardship for your benefit——”
“Well, sir, I make no denial of his cheerfulness, or of his sense of duty to his superiors.”
“—And that for some time now a large burden of responsibility, wholly unconnected with any interest of mine, has lain upon my shoulders.”