"Are you hurt?" asked Max.
"Hit in the leg," said the little captain, as if it were a trifle. "There 're no bones broken, but I'm bleeding like a pig."
"Let me look at it," said Max. "The artery may be cut."
They were now well screened by trees. It was impossible that any one could come upon them unawares. Max took his knife from his pocket, ripped open the seam of the captain's trousers, and examined the wound. The artery was untouched, but there was an ugly wound in the thigh, which had evidently been made by an enormously heavy bullet.
"Cæsar's elephant-gun," said Crouch. "By Christopher, I'll make him pay for this!"
"Are you sure of that?" said Max.
"Yes," said Crouch. "I caught sight of something white moving among the trees. I knew at once that Cæsar was there with his Arabs."
Meanwhile, with quick fingers, Max was folding his handkerchief lengthwise for a bandage.
"Wait a bit," said Crouch. "I'll soon stop that flow of blood. I've a special remedy of my own." Whereupon he produced his tobacco-pouch; and before Max could stop it, he had taken a large plug of his vile, black tobacco, dipped it into a puddle of water, and thumbed the lot into the open wound, as a man charges a pipe.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Max, with memories of his hospital days. "You'll get septic poisoning! You can't do that!"