“He’d have cured him. There’s nobody like him for wounds. But, I say, Chillian what’s its name?”
“Chillianwallah,” I said.
“Why, what a game! That’s where old Lomax was. I remember now.”
“Is Lomax one of the boys,” I asked wonderingly.
“Yah! no. You saw him last night, when you came in the fly. That big chap who lives at the lodge, and helped lift down your box. He had a shot through him, and nearly had his head cut off with a tully something. He’ll tell you. He has a pension, and is our drill-master, and teaches boys riding.”
This was interesting, and I felt a desire to know old Lomax.
“What’s your mother?” said my companion, breaking in upon my musing.
“A lady,” I said proudly.
“So’s mine. She’s the nicest and best and—” At that moment I heard a loud, deep-throated cough, which was followed by a shuffling and stamping, as I saw all the boys rise in their places.
“Get up—get up,” whispered my neighbour. “The Doctor.”