“I think so.”
“Ah, you’d know, sir,” said the man. “It’s a lucky thing for us chaps that you joined.”
“Why?” said Dick, who was busy with a bandage.
“Well, sir, you see, you can lead and fight and at the same time you was born a doctor—so I’ve heared.”
Dick laughed. “There,” he said, finishing his task. “Now lie on your side, and go to sleep if you can. I hope Doctor Robson will soon be well enough to see to you.”
“Thank ye, sir; but I mean to be well before he is,” said the man cheerily.
Dick attended man after man with his assistants till they came to the last, who was lying on a charpoy with his face averted.
“Now, my lad,” said the sergeant, “your turn. Yours a bullet too?”
The man slowly turned a face blackened with sweat and gunpowder, and looked up in a dazed way at the speaker.
“Bob Hanson!” cried the sergeant. “Why, I didn’t know you were one of the men hit.”