“No words can express how grateful I feel,” Bathurst said. “The cloud that shadowed my life seems lifted, and henceforth I shall be able to look a man in the face.”
“You are wounded, I see,” the Doctor said.
“Yes, I had a pistol ball through my left arm. I fancy the bone is broken, but that is of no consequence.”
“A broken arm is no trifle,” the Doctor said, “especially in a climate like this. Come into the hospital at once and let me see to it.”
One of the bones of the forearm was indeed broken, and the Doctor, having applied splints and bandages, peremptorily ordered him to lie down. Bathurst protested that he was perfectly able to get up with his arm in a sling.
“I know you are able,” the Doctor said testily; “but if you were to go about in this oven, we should very likely have you in a high fever by tomorrow morning. Keep yourself perfectly quiet for today; by tomorrow, if you have no signs of fever, and the wound is doing well, we will see about it.”
Upon leaving him Dr. Wade went out and heard the details of the fight.
“Your friend Bathurst particularly distinguished himself,” the officer who commanded the volunteers said. “He cut down the ressaldar who commanded the Sepoys, and was in the thick of it. I saw him run one sowar through and shoot another. I am not surprised at his fighting so well after what you have gone through in Deennugghur and in that Cawnpore business.”
The Doctor then went up to see Isobel. She looked flushed and excited.
“Is it true, Doctor, that Mr. Bathurst went out with the volunteers, and that he is wounded?”