“Yes,” said a sharp, clear voice. “Now then, most impatient of all patients, how are you getting on?”
“Getting ready for the firing-party to waste a few cartridges over, doctor. Can’t you see?”
“Humph!” said our visitor, feeling the poor fellow’s head and then his pulse. “Here, drink a little of this.”
“More physic?” groaned Denham despondently.
“Yes, Nature’s,” replied the doctor, holding out a folding cup which he had refilled. “Fresh water; a bucket just brought to the screen there by the orderly.”
As he spoke he raised the poor fellow up with one arm and held the cup to his lips.
Denham took a few drops unwillingly, then a little more, and finally finished the cupful with avidity, while the sight of my companion drinking seemed to produce a strange, feverish sensation in my throat.
The next minute the doctor had let Denham sink down, and refilled the cup and handed it to me. It was delicious, and I drained the little vessel all too soon. Then I was gently lowered, and the doctor repeated the dose with us both.
“That’s better,” he said quietly. “You two fellows have been talking too much; now shut your eyes and have a good long sleep.”
“What! in the middle of the day?” protested Denham.