He raised himself to his full height in a grandiloquent gesture and—fell fainting into Perinaud's arms. The sergeant grunted morosely and pointed to a crimson stain which had welled through the blue tunic and was rapidly spreading.
"If it is not serious, I thank Our Lady and all the listening Saints for this!" he said devoutly. "He is impossible as a colleague on reconnaissance, this energetic commandant. It was his recklessness which led these men into a trap which at any other moment they would have avoided. We have lost two men and five horses by the result of this escapade. What are your suggestions now, Monsieur?"
Aylmer hesitated.
"For the moment have you not done enough?" he asked. "After all, your service is to France, not to intruders like myself. My Moorish servant and I might continue to reconnoitre alone. Your hands are full enough, are they not?"
The other looked at him queerly.
"Perhaps Monsieur thinks that so far we have been a hindrance rather than a help to his purposes. Monsieur has reason. At the same time we might justly, in my opinion, be permitted another chance to repair our prestige."
Aylmer smiled. Perinaud's voice was chilly. The glance he directed at the crestfallen Goumiers let it be inferred that his words were also designed to reach their address. They shuffled and kicked at the ground restlessly as they listened.
"It is for you, of course, to direct matters, Sergeant!" he said quickly. "But the commandant, without a doubt, must be removed at once to hospital."
"Without a doubt, Monsieur," agreed Perinaud, with sudden cheerfulness. "We will escort him and the dismounted men out of the forest into the open farm lands, where patrols are not infrequent and nothing is to be feared. They will then be about twenty kilometres from the town. The best mounted will proceed as quickly as possible to fetch the ambulance. Of the others, twenty will escort the commandant's stretcher—it is perfectly feasible to make a good one of poles which we will cut and over which we will button two greatcoats—the five new-made fantassins will walk. The remaining dozen and you and I, Monsieur, will proceed—with energy, if you please, but certainly with prudence."
Perinaud closed his little homily with the satisfied air of an orator who has arrived at and correctly delivered an anticipated peroration.