"They are Franc-tireurs des Écoles," the orderly, who had accompanied them, said; "the surgeon said they were all students. They deserve good treatment, Doctor, for no men could have fought better than they did. Everyone says that they saved Champigny."
"Put them together, Wilson, if you can, or at any rate in pairs. They are students of the University, the art schools, and so on. If there are not two empty beds together put them anywhere for the present; we can shift the beds about in a day or two when we get breathing-time."
"There are two vacant beds in No. 2 marque, Doctor."
The doctor stepped to the litter that had just been carried in. Its occupant was sensible.
"Is there any one of your comrades you would prefer to be placed in the bed next to you?" he asked in French.
"Yes, Doctor," he replied in English. "The tall fellow who was next to me in the wagon. I am a countryman of yours, and he is an Englishman, and we are in the same art school."
"An American?" Dr. Swinburne replied. "I am glad, indeed, they brought you here. You may be sure that we will do everything we can to make you comfortable. I will attend to you directly I have seen the others brought in."
Mary Brander's heart gave a bound as she saw the wounded man brought in, for she recognized the uniform at once. A glance, however, at the dark head reassured her. As soon as the stretcher was laid down by the bed which-was the last in the line, and the wounded man was lifted on to it she went as usual with a glass of weak spirits and water to his side.
"Will you drink, monsieur," she asked, in French.
"I am an American," he said, with a faint smile, "as I suppose you are."