“Tidy, sir. Smarts a lot; but I don’t mind, sir. Say you’ve not got it bad.”
“Bad enough, my lad; but we’ve won.”
Gedge turned to the officer with a wild, questioning look in his eyes, for Bracy sank back, half-fainting.
“A bad, clean cut; that’s all,” said the officer, smiling encouragement.
“But it ain’t all, sir,” cried Gedge passionately. “He’s badly hurt besides. Crippled in the leg.”
“Ah! and you fought like that! Well, we must get him down to the doctor; he is not far below. Ambulance party here.”
“Beg pardon, sir; why not lay him on the stone again, and let him slide down easy? I can ride, too, and steer.”
“I don’t understand you, my lad,” said the officer, looking at Gedge as if he thought him wandering.
He soon did comprehend, though; and the little Ghoorkhas cheered with delight as, with Bracy lying upon the sheepskin-coats, the stony sledge went gliding slowly down the slope, half-a-dozen of the little fellows forming its escort, and ready to check it from breaking away, till the end of the snowfield was reached, and the two sufferers were soon after being well tended by the doctor in the temporary camp.
This was near the fir-wood hold by the enemy the night before—the enemy, after heavy loss, having been scattered far and wide.