When he opened them again it was to see Bracy kneeling by his side and bending over him, the young officer’s countenance looking blue and swollen, while his voice when he spoke sounded husky and faint.
“Are you better now?” he said.
“Better!” replied Gedge hoarsely as he stared confusedly at the speaker. “Ain’t been ill agen, have I! Here, what yer been doing to make my head ache like this here? I—I—I d’ know. Something’s buzzing, and my head’s going round. Some one’s been giving me—Oh, Mr Bracy, sir! I remember now. Do tell me, sir; are yer all right?”
“Yes, nearly,” replied the young officer, with a weary smile. “Twisted my ankle badly, and I’m faint and sick. I can’t talk.”
“Course not, sir; but you’re all right again now. You want something to eat. I say, sir, did you finish your rations?”
“No; they’re here in my haversack. You can take a part if you want some.”
“Me, sir? I’ve got plenty. Ain’t had nothing since when we had our feed together. I ain’t touched nothing.”
“Eat, then; you must want food.”
“Yes, I am a bit peckish, sir, I s’pose; but I can’t eat ’less you do.”
Bracy smiled faintly, and began to open his snow-covered haversack, taking from it a piece of hard cake, which he began to eat very slowly, looking hard and strange of manner, a fact which did not escape Gedge’s eyes; but the latter said nothing, opened his canvas bag with trembling hands, and began to eat in a hurried, excited way, but soon left off.