“Neither,” said Wyatt sharply. “It seemed such a position for the captain in command of the troop to be carried right away like that, leaving his men to take their chance, but it was impossible to cut my way out till that firing began. Did you give the order?”
“No,” said Dick shortly. “Once more—and I won’t ask you again—are you wounded?”
“Don’t think I am, old fellow; but I got two heavy cracks on the helmet, and my uniform is horribly cut in several places.”
“Oh, never mind your uniform,” said Dick.
“But I do. It’s my best. I didn’t know we were coming in for such a scrimmage as this. If I had I’d have put on my worst things.”
“But you are not hurt, Wyatt?”
“But I am, my lad. I must be bruised terribly, and my right arm feels quite numbed.”
“Never mind; we’ve won the battle,” said Dick earnestly.
“Fight or skirmish, my lad; the one out yonder was more of a battle. Well, I suppose we have got it pretty well our own way. Our friends did wonders. They’d make splendid light cavalry if they were only trained. Here’s Hulton.—How are you, old fellow?”
“Glad to see you back safely,” said Hulton, shaking hands warmly. “I could do nothing to help you till just now.”