“Very gravely, I’m afraid. Dr Morton can’t tell yet from the hasty examination he made, but he shook his head.”
“Poor lad!” said the Sergeant. “We were always bad friends, sir; he was so full of his Cockney monkey-tricks, and he hated me, but we couldn’t spare him. What a soldier he would have made!”
“Hah!” ejaculated Roberts; “as full of pluck as a lad could be. Mr Bracy’s been telling me how he carried him through the fire, and sheltered him with his own body. That’s how it was he had his wound.”
There was another pause, with the silence only broken by the echoing tramp, tramp of the men.
“Won’t die—will he, sir?” whispered Sergeant Gee.
“I pray Heaven no,” said the Captain.
“That sounds bad, sir,” said the Sergeant huskily. “I should like to shake hands with him afore he goes; and if he gets better I won’t be so hard on him again.”
“I suppose you have only done your duty by him.”
“I hope so, sir.”
“Double on to the ambulance, and see how he is. Corporal Green, take the Sergeant’s place.”