"What about Jackanapes?"
"Don't you know? Sad business. Rode back for Johnson, and brought him in; but, monstrous ill-luck, hit as they rode. Left lung—"
"Will he recover?"
"No. Sad business. What a frame—what limbs—what health—and what good looks! Finest young fellow—"
"Where is he?"
"In his own tent," said the surgeon, sadly.
The Major wheeled and left him.
"Can I do anything else for you?"
"Nothing, thank you. Except—Major! I wish I could get you to appreciate Johnson."