"Getting well of a wound," answered Hugo, looking frankly into the hawk eyes.
"Evidently!" said Bouchard, who was always irritated when told what he could see for himself. "Why aren't you at a hospital?"
"I was not wanted there!" said Hugo.
"What! what!" But Bouchard had wasted two words. "Your name and regiment?" he asked.
"Hugo Mallin, of the 128th," replied Hugo.
"Uh-h!" Bouchard's pigeonhole memory had retained the name. "Charge—mutiny under fire; anarchism!" he went on, chopping out the words as if they were chips from a piece of granite. "Well, you have not escaped trial by hiding."
"I did not flatter myself that with one leg against a whole army I had much chance, sir!" Hugo replied respectfully.
"Uh-h!" The hawk eyes flashed their disapproval of such controversial freedom of language from a private. Had he had his way he would have hanged Hugo to the nearest tree; for Bouchard had truly a mediæval soul.
But Hugo's case was so extraordinary that it had reached Westerling's ears, and Bouchard knew that Westerling wished to see Hugo when he was apprehended. It was not for Bouchard to consider this desire of a chief of staff to deal with the case of a private in person as singular. No request of the chief of staff was singular to him. It became a matter of natural law. He called to one of the staff guards who was pacing back and forth near by.
"Take this man in charge and watch him sharply until General Westerling sends for him!"