“Well, no, sir; can’t quite reach it yet; but I’m a deal better.”
“Full of fancies, that’s all. What! were you thinking that your master was a bit off his head?”
“Something o’ that sort, sir.”
“Then don’t think so any more. He’s fanciful enough without you beginning.”
“Then you don’t think it’s anything to mind?”
“No, of course not. I’m glad to see him getting so much stronger.”
Drummond nodded, and being in a good deal of pain, began to nurse his arm again, and tried whether whistling would soothe the sharp, gnawing ache which seemed to run from his wrist up to his shoulder.
Gedge waited till his footsteps died out, and then turned to go back to Bracy’s room.
“His is only a clean cut of a tullywor,” he muttered, “and’ll soon grow together. Different thing to a ragged bullet-wound right through the chest and back, or one like mine, right in the back. I don’t like the looks o’ all this, though; but he must know better than me, after seeing a lot o’ poor fellows cut down and shot; but I think I ought to tell the Doctor.”
He opened the door softly and went in, to find that Bracy had been watching for him anxiously.