“Just the same, he might have been badly hurt!” said Shirley, by no means convinced.
“Oh, they did all right,” said Dick with a laugh. “Come Shirley, let’s get back to the ship and I’ll have the surgeon look at this arm.”
“Are you hurt, Jack?” asked one of the men stepping forward.
“Bullet in the arm,” was Dick’s reply; and he added: “But my name is not Jack.”
“Everybody is Jack to us,” was the answer. “But had we known you were wounded we would have taken that fellow off your hands. Come on, there is Dr. Thomas over there.”
Dick and Shirley followed the marines to where the surgeon was engaged in bandaging the wounds of an American sailor, the only man who had been touched by one of the enemy’s bullets.
He bound Dick’s arm up quickly, remarking that it would be as good as new in a day or two.
“Shirley!”
It was Mabel’s voice, and turning, Shirley saw her chum rushing toward her. She ran to meet her and the greeting was affectionate.
“How dared you take such a chance, Mabel?” demanded Shirley.