He held out his hand, but there was no response, for Bracy’s right arm lay motionless by his side, and a look of misery crossed the poor fellow’s face.
“Never mind,” said the Doctor quietly; and he took Bracy’s hand in his, when the fingers contracted over his in a tremendous pressure, which he had hard work to hear without wincing. But he stood smiling down at his patient till the contraction of the muscles ceased, and Bracy did not know till afterwards the pain that his grip had caused.
Chapter Seventeen.
On the Balance.
The enemy had been very quiet for some days. The weather had been bad. Heavy rains had changed the rills and streams which ran along the gullies and ravines into fierce torrents, which leaped and bounded downward, foaming and tearing at the rocks which blocked their way, till with a tremendous plunge they joined the river in the valley, which kept up one deep, thunder-like boom, echoing from the mountains round.
Before the rain came the sun had seemed to beat down with double force, and the valley had become intolerable during the day, the perpendicular rocks sending back the heat till the fort felt like an oven, and the poor fellows lying wounded under the doctor’s care suffered terribly, panting in the great heat as they did, feeling the pangs of Tantalus, for there, always glittering before their eyes in the pure air, were the mountain-peaks draped in fold upon fold of the purest ice and snow.
“We should lose ’em all, poor fellows!” the Doctor said, “if it were not for these glorious evenings and perfect nights. It wouldn’t matter so much if we could get a few mule-loads of the ice from up yonder. Can’t be done, I suppose?”
“No,” said Colonel Graves sadly. “Plenty of men would volunteer, but, much as every one is suffering—the ladies almost as bad as your wounded, Morton—I dare not send them, for they would never get back with their loads. Many of the brave fellows would straggle back, of course, but instead of bringing ice, Doctor, they would be bearing their wounded and dead comrades.”