"Is that the man you want to see?" asked the surgeon, but bundled Denis from the tent next instant, and made his conductors hold both lanterns to his face. "Don't you try to speak!" he went on to Denis. "Your wound has practically frozen; and we must keep it so as long as we can. Hold this wad to it till you come out. I oughtn't to let you go in—but he's worse than you."
The caution was repeated to Ralph; then Denis took the camp-stool, and the two were left alone.
"I am glad to have seen you again," murmured Ralph in hollow tones. "Do you know when I saw you last? I never thought of it till this moment. It was on the far side of the battery. Some fellow was going to bayonet you where you lay, and I—I was just in time."
Denis was nodding violently. He also had remembered. He stretched out a trembling hand. But Ralph drew his beneath the blanket.
"Wait a bit," he whispered. "You see, I never thought of its being you; but I'm rather glad it was. Badly hurt, I'm afraid?"
Denis shook his head.
"I am. Lungs. I'm afraid it's a case. Do you remember this early morning?"
The disfigured face made a ghastly protest. Devenish only smiled.
"It was a good sort of duel," he whispered. "And you see, you've won!"
He stretched out a deathly hand for the champagne. Denis reached it for him.