“He has a chance, that’s all. Help me to carry him to where we have the other wounded.”
Dave complied, and Henry was placed on some cedar boughs, where lay all manner of sufferers. He was given a little liquor to strengthen him and his wound was bound up.
“We can’t do any more for him just now,” said the surgeon. “You had better get to the front again,” and Dave hurried back to his post of duty, but with a heart that was heavy and sore.
“Poor Henry!” he murmured. “If he dies, how ever will I tell Aunt Lucy and Uncle Joe? It will break their hearts, and the hearts of poor Rodney and little Nell too.”
The fighting had let up a little, but now it was resumed with increased vigor upon the side of the French and their Indian allies. The Indians were for assaulting the fort and forcing a hand-to-hand fight, but luckily for the English the French commander would not allow this.
“Got it pretty bad,” said the surgeon.—Page [252].
Dave had hardly returned to his post, and was standing on the very spot where Henry had stood when another bullet came whistling that way, striking the young soldier in the shoulder. He stumbled and fell but quickly arose to his feet.
“Are you shot?” asked the soldier who had spoken to him before about Henry.
“Yes, in the shoulder, but I do not think it is severe.”