Sergeant Stubbs said this with a grim look, but it was sober, earnest determination not to die un-revenged, for there was powder enough to destroy the place and all that were in it.
Dick was warm enough with his hot ride and all he had gone through, but as soon as he had flung his rein to his syce and patted Burnouse, he hurried to the room where the wounded men lay, finding Hulton looking deadly pale, but calm and free from fever; while the doctor, in spite of his weakness, was able to make inquiries about how the day had gone.
Dick told him in as few words as he could, and soon found that every one was listening.
All at once there was a deep groan, and Dick sprang to the bed of one of the men, to find that the sufferer was Hanson.
“Arm you in pain?” he said anxiously.
“Pretty well for that, sir. Why do you ask?”
“You groaned as if in agony.”
“That was not me, sir, but Jones there.”
“Your wound hurt you much?” said Dick to the man in sympathetic tones.
“No, sir; but it’s hard, that’s what it is—hard.”