Meanwhile the sortie party had almost been carried to their tents, while the officer who had been in command turned to the strangers who had so strangely joined his forces.
“What’s the matter, Somerton?” he cried. “You look awfully white. Not hit, I hope?”
“Oh, I’m all right! It’s nothing, thanks!” Jack answered. But his looks belied his words. He was deadly pale. His head was in a whirl, and now that all the excitement and danger was over, the power to control his feelings deserted him. His rifle dropped from his hand, he staggered forward, and fell senseless at the feet of his astonished friends.
Guy rushed to his side, and with the help of Rawlings, Mr Hunter, and Mr Richardson carried him to a field hospital which happened to be near. There it was found that a bullet had struck the magazine of his Mauser pistol, and, exploding the ammunition, had shattered the weapon and torn a deep wound in his side. But, strange to say, Jack had barely felt it at the time, though on the way back to the camp the pain had been excruciating. He had received the wound when charging with the bayonet, and the loss of blood which followed had at last told upon his strength.
When he recovered consciousness he was lying in a comfortable cot in a huge marquee, in which were fifteen others. In front of him, calmly stitching beneath the flap-like awning, was an army nursing sister, one of that band of noble women who follow our armies everywhere. She was stitching quietly, and seemed quite unconcerned when shell after shell, thrown from the Boer guns, fell in the camp.
Jack stirred, and at once gave vent to a sharp cry of pain, for the slightest movement caused him agony.
“Ah, so you’ve come to at last!” said the sister in a gentle voice, jumping up from her seat and coming to the side of his cot. “Now you must drink this. It is nasty stuff, but will do you good, and to-morrow, if you are strong enough, I will tell you how my life has been pestered these last two days by the hundreds of friends who have called to ask after you.”
“Friends!” said Jack feebly. “What friends? I have only a few here.”
“You have far more than you imagine,” the sister replied with a smile. “But I am disobeying orders. You are not to talk.”
With gentle hands she arranged his pillows and saw that he was comfortable, and Jack fell into an easy sleep as he was in the act of thanking her.