He stopped short as he came quickly up, having been summoned away a few minutes before; and now he pointed at me, and turned to a quiet, keen-looking youngish man, who wore a sword, but had his pockets stuffed full of bandages and bottles, for I heard them chink.
“Dat Mass’ George, sah,” he cried.
“Ah, that’s right. Your father wished me to examine your wound.”
“Are you a doctor?” I said eagerly.
“Well, yes—a surgeon.”
“Come with me, then,” I cried. “There’s some one who was wounded in one of our boats.”
“The woman? Yes, I have seen her and attended to her. Now then, quick, my lad. Lean on me, and let’s see about you.”
I limped beside him to the part of the block-house set apart for such troubles, and after giving me no little pain, he said—
“There, you can sit somewhere and load guns. You will not hurt now.”
“It’s not dangerous then?” I said.