"You have a double fracture of the thigh," he said. "But we'll soon set it for you."
Sickel listened open-mouthed.
"Then I shall be ready to leave when I get my discharge?" he inquired.
The medical officer smiled. "No, my friend, it will take from four to six weeks."
This was too much for the driver, and he grumbled loudly. He would cheerfully have been more hurt, although, as it was, he had had a narrow shave--but not to be able to get his discharge--it was hard lines indeed!
Meanwhile the ambulance-orderly had put a bandage round Vogt's head. Rademacher gazed thoughtfully down on Klitzing. At last he turned away; it was a hopeless case. He sent the trumpeter, who had come with him for an ambulance-waggon. He had seen one standing in the road not far off.
Restlessly he walked up and down, trying to shorten the time of waiting. Every time he passed the clerk he looked at the lips through which still came that heavy breathing. It was a perfect marvel that the man still lived. Three ribs were broken, and they had wounded the lung so severely that a violent hæmorrhage had ensued.
Four stretcher-bearers came down the hill at last, carrying two stretchers. Klitzing was first placed on one of them.
"Where is he to go?" asked the foremost stretcher-bearer. Rademacher considered a moment, and then answered:
"Up yonder, right on the brow of the hill, there's a farm, manor-house, or something of the sort. Take him there. On my responsibility."