“Great heavens, Danby!” began Brace.
“Thank Heaven, you mean,” said the doctor, in his quick, business-like way. “Good job I’m here. Dost, you fool, you shouldn’t be in such a hurry. Why, you might have buried him. The man’s not dead.”
No word was uttered, but there was a quick expiration of the breath, and then a busy silence, only broken by the rustling movements of the doctor, who kept on examining and bandaging.
At last he began to speak.
“Wonderful how nature stops bleeding,” he whispered. “He has cuts and stabs enough to have bled any one to death, but there’s a spark left yet.”
“Hist! what’s that?” said Brace, as a sound came from the door.
“Right, sir,” said a voice, which I knew to be Sergeant Craig’s. “Mr Haynes is getting uneasy.”
“Go and tell him,” said Brace, who was kneeling and holding one end of a bandage.
I crossed to the door.
“We’ve found the major,” I whispered, “desperately wounded, but alive.”