“Chester! Chester!” he exclaimed anxiously. “Are you wounded?”
There was no reply from the unconscious boy, and Hal became greatly alarmed. He turned to the few troopers who remained.
“Here, lend a hand some of you,” he commanded. “One of you fetch some water!”
Two of the men bent over the unconscious lad and one raised his head gently to his knee. A third dashed for the river, and a moment later returned with his cap filled with water.
Hal sprinkled a few drops of water on his friend’s face, and soon noticed signs of returning consciousness. Finally Chester opened his eyes and smiled feebly.
“Are you much hurt, old fellow?” asked Hal anxiously.
“No,” came the feeble response. “I don’t think so. A bullet just grazed my side. I don’t know how I came to topple over like that.”
Quickly Hal unloosened his friend’s coat, tore open his shirt and examined his wound.
“It’s only a scratch,” he said, straightening up at last. “Here,” pulling out his handkerchief, “I’ll fix it up until we can have a surgeon look at it. You will be able to walk in a few minutes.”