“That hurt you?” said Dick, after unbuttoning the uniform and taking out the carefully folded handkerchief just as Mrs Corporal Beane had brought it to him from the wash.
“Yes, but not very much,” said the Colonel. “Go on, it will be cool and refreshing.”
He was in great pain, but he lay smiling with a very kindly, fatherly look at the clever little fellow, as Dick carefully washed away the stains, having to go over the officer’s face twice before it was quite clean, after which he dried it, and knelt there looking at the bright sword which was hanging by its golden knot to the Colonel’s right arm.
“Shall I take that off before I wash your hands?” The Colonel nodded and smiled in the same fatherly way as the boy unloosed the sword-knot, laid the weapon close by and then washed and dried the wounded man’s hands.
“I say,” said Dick then, “I can tear this handkerchief when it’s dry. Shall I tie up your cuts?”
“No,” said the Colonel sadly: “they must wait till the Doctor comes, Dick, if he ever does. They are not cuts, my boy, but bullet-holes, and they have ceased to bleed. Now what is to be done next?”
“Get up, and let’s find the men.”
“No, boy,” said the Colonel sadly. “I could not move. We must wait. But you are hungry. Were there any rations on the mule?”
“No,” said Dick, shaking his head: “they were on the other mule. We must wait: but I am so hungry. Aren’t you?”
“No,” said the Colonel sadly, and his eyes wandered round, but he looked in vain. They were in a wild ravine, and not so much as a berry was in sight.