“My big trouble, old fellow. Morton won’t say a word about it; but I know.”
“Come now; what do you know? You lie awake imagining all sorts of things.”
“But I don’t imagine that. You can see it for yourself. I’m strong enough in mind, but the weakness of body is terrible.”
“Of course it is. You have had a hole right through you, made by a rough piece of iron fired from a gun; but it’s healing up fast.”
“Yes,” said Bracy, with a sigh, “the wound is healing up fast.”
“Then, what more do you want?”
“My old manly strength,” cried the sufferer with energy. “This horrible, helpless weakness!”
“Dull! What an unreasonable patient you are!” cried Roberts. “How can you expect the strength to come till the wound is healed?”
“I don’t expect it,” sighed the poor fellow. “Roberts, old man, it will never come back. My spine was injured by that bullet.”
“Yes; we know that.”