At last. The final bandage was secured, and a horrible weight was removed from Syd’s breast, for he knew that he had set the bones rightly even if his surgery was rough, and so far his patient had not sunk under the operation.
“Shall we carry him up yonder now, sir?” said the boatswain, touching his forelock.
“Move him? no,” cried Syd. “Rig up something over his head. He must not be touched.” Then, turning to Dallas, he went down on one knee and took his hand. “Are you in much pain?” he said.
The poor fellow was conscious, and he looked full in the speaker’s eyes; his lips moved, but no sound came, and the horrible feeling of sickness which had first troubled Syd came back, increasing so fast that the lad rose quickly and staggered a few yards.
“Give me something—water—quick!” he muttered; and all was blank.
Chapter Twenty Six.
When Syd opened his eyes he was lying down, with Roylance kneeling by his side, and a curious feeling of wonderment came over him as to what all this meant.
“What’s the matter?” he said, sharply.