“Mr Bracy severely wounded. Privates Down and Gedge had bullet-wounds. Other hurts slight.”
The Doctor hurried away to his operating-room, and his assistants went to the door to help in the three patients, who were attended to in turn.
The first man who had fallen had to have a bullet extracted from his leg, half-way to the hip, where it was deeply embedded in the muscle.
“Now, my dear Bracy,” said the Doctor, “let’s look at you.”
“No, I can wait,” was the reply. “My bandages is quite firm, and the bleeding has ceased.”
The Doctor frowned, and was about to say something regarding interference; but he checked himself, glanced at the bandage, and nodded.
“Very well,” he said; “the other man.”
Poor Gedge was very white and remarkably quiet, but his eyes were full of motion; and he watched the Doctor’s face and every action of his hands.
“Why, Gedge, my lad,” said the Doctor cheerily after a certain amount of busy manipulation, “this isn’t fair. I didn’t want to have you in hospital again.”
“Same to you, sir,” said the sufferer, with a ghastly attempt at a smile, as he screwed his head round to look at the Doctor.