Chapter Thirty Six.
How the Fort was saved.
It was on the third morning after Bracy and Gedge had been with the Ghoorkhas, who were in camp in a natural stronghold of the upper valley, resting before making their final advance to the fort. Gedge, with his arm in a sling, and a frost-bitten foot, which made him limp about the little tent they shared by the doctor’s orders, was looking anxiously down at his officer, who lay perfectly helpless, appearing terribly thin and worn, but with a bright look in his eyes, which augured well for his recovery.
“Yes, sir; you look a deal better,” said Gedge in answer to a question: “and, of course, the doctor ought to know; but I don’t think you ought to be so weak.”
“Wasn’t it enough to make me weak, my lad?” said Bracy in a faint voice. “Why, I have hardly a drop of blood left in my body.”
“Course not, sir; and you do eat and sleep well.”
“Yes, my lad; and if we can only cut our way through these swarming wretches, and relieve the fort before it is too late, I shall soon begin to mend. It is horrible, this delay, and no news.”
“No news, sir?” said Gedge, staring. “Didn’t the doctor tell you?”