“I am beginning to feel as if talking will do me good and spur me back into being more myself.”
“Think so, sir? Well, you know best, sir.”
“I think so,” said Bracy quietly; “but I shall not be right till I have had a few hours’ sleep.”
“Look here, then, sir; you lie down in the sun here on my poshtin. I’ll keep watch.”
“No! no! Not till night. There, I am getting my strength back. I was completely stunned, Gedge, and I have been acting like a man walking in his sleep.”
Gedge kept glancing at his officer furtively, and there was an anxious look in his eyes as he said to himself:
“He’s like a fellow going to have a touch of fever. Bit wandering-like, poor chap! I know what’s wrong. I’ll ask him.”
He did not ask at once, though, for he saw that Bracy was eating the piece of cake with better appetite, breaking off scraps more frequently; while the food, simple as it was, seemed to have a wonderfully reviving effect, and he turned at last to his companion.
“You are not eating, my lad,” he said, smiling faintly. “Come, you know what you have said to me.”
“Oh, I’m all right again now, sir; I’m only keeping time with you. There. Dry bread-cake ain’t bad, sir, up here in the mountains, when you’re hungry. Hurt your head a bit—didn’t you, sir?”