He lay for a few minutes with his brain growing clearer and clearer, and at last, seeing one of the nurses looking in his direction, he tried to raise one hand, but could not. The other proved more manageable, and in obedience to a sign the nurse came, laid a hand upon his forehead, and smiled down in his face.
“Your head’s cooler!” she said. “You’re better?”
“Yes,” he replied: “have I been very bad?”
“Terribly! We thought once that you would not recover.”
“And Ingleborough?”
“Ingleborough? Oh, you mean your companion who was brought in with you?”
West nodded: he could not speak.
“Well, I think he will get better now!”
“But his wound: is it so bad?”
“He nearly bled to death; but you must not talk much yet.”