“Beg pardon, sir, but as a soldier—” began Gedge.
“Soldiers cannot do impossibilities, my lad. I have all the will and spirit to get on to the Ghil Valley, and yet here I am with my urgent message undelivered, and lying sleeping the greater part of a day.”
“Oh, that’s different, sir. You’re sorter like being in hospital and wounded.”
“If not wounded, Gedge,” said Bracy sadly, “I am crippled.”
“Don’t say that, sir,” cried the lad excitedly. “I thought you said there was nothing broke.”
“I did not think so then, my lad, but there is something wrong with my right leg.”
“Amb’lance dooty—first help,” said Gedge quickly. “Let’s look, sir.”
Bracy bowed his head, and the young soldier ran his hand down the puttee bandage about his officer’s leg, and drew in his breath sharply.
“Well,” said Bracy faintly, “what do you make out?”
“Leg’s not broke, sir, but there’s something awfully wrong with the ankle. It’s all puffed up as big as my ’elmet.”