“Nonsense, man!”
“Well, you ask him, sir. I never went to sleep—did I, pardner?”
“No,” said his wounded companion. “We was talking all night when we wasn’t saying Hff! or Oh! or Oh dear! or That’s a stinger!—wasn’t we, Gedge, mate?”
“That’s right, pardner. But it don’t matter, sir—do it?—not a bit, as the swelling’s going down?”
“Not a bit,” said Bracy, to whom this question was addressed. “There, we are not going to stay. Make haste, my lad, and get well. I’m glad you are in such good quarters.”
“Thank ye, sir, thank ye. Quarters is all right, sir; but I’d rather be in the ranks. So would he—wouldn’t you, pardner?”
His fellow-sufferer, who looked doubtful at Gedge’s free-and-easy way of talking, glancing the while at the Doctor to see how he would take it, nodded his head and delivered himself of a grunt, as the little party filed out of the long, whitewashed, barn-like room.
“A couple of wonderful escapes,” said the Doctor, “and quite a treat. I’ve had nothing to see to but cases of fever, and lads sick through eating or drinking what they ought not to. But I dare say I shall be busy now.”
“Thanks, Doctor,” said Roberts as they returned to the great court of the large building. “Glad you’ve got such good quarters for your patients.”
“Thanks to you for coming,” replied the Doctor; and the parties separated, Drummond leading his new friends off to introduce them to some of the anxious, careworn ladies who had accompanied their husbands in the regiment, and of the Civil Service, who had come up to Ghittah at a time when a rising of the hill-tribes was not for a moment expected. On his way he turned with a look of disgust to Bracy.