The two men understood his gesture, and laid Percy on the floor.
"He is not dead, but he is mighty near it," the surgeon said, as he felt his pulse. "Ah, this is what it is, a cut from one of those tulwars. He is bleeding to death. Give me that brandy bottle, orderly."
He poured a spoonful or two between Percy's lips, then laid some lint over the wound, and firmly bandaged it.
"Give him another spoonful, orderly, while I go on to the next; he will come round presently."
"Is it mortal, doctor?"
"No, it is a very nasty wound, but I don't think it has cut through the skull; the sword must have been turned a little. I will examine it in the morning when I get breathing time."
"I know him now," the colonel said; "it is that young civilian who came in the day we crossed the Chenab. Yes, these are the two native servants who always rode behind him. Come along with me, men; I must take you to someone who talks Punjaubi. You shall come back to your master afterwards; he is lucky in having two such faithful servants."
The men did not fully understand him, but Akram Chunder gathered the meaning, and with a look at their master they followed the officer from the hospital.
CHAPTER XX.
GUJERAT.