“Ahoy!” came back; and I saw my school-fellow get up and begin limping towards us as fast as he could come.
I ran to meet him, but stopped before I had gone many yards, for the painful sensation in my side checked me, and I was glad to hold my hand pressed upon the place, and wait till he came up.
“Oh, I am glad!” he cried, catching my hand. “I thought—no, I won’t say what I thought.”
“But you are hurt,” I said. “Is it your leg?”
“Yes, I feel just as if I was a gull, Sep, and someone had shot me.”
“And you are shot?”
“Yes, but only in the leg. Is the captain up there?”
“Yes,” I said, “and three or four of the men. I say, Big, what a terrible night!”
“Yes,” he replied, in a curious tone of voice; “but, I’m glad it’s the French, and that no one else has done it.”
My father had come down to where we were seated, and made us follow him to the shelter of the rocks.