“Is his spine injured?” cried Roylance.
“Can’t be,” replied Syd, “or he could not kick out like he does.”
“And for the same reason his legs must be all right,” said Roylance.
“Spine of his back and his legs,” said Strake; “well, that’s something to be thankful for.”
“The bullet must have lodged in his chest,” said Syd, “and I dare say perhaps has injured him fatally. No blood visible; he must be bleeding inside.”
There was a pause after a couple more attempts to inspect the injury.
Then, after a little thought, Syd said, firmly—
“Pan, I must examine your wound.”
The boy curled up more tightly.
“It is of no use, Strake,” continued Syd, firmly, and unconsciously imitating Doctor Liss with a stupid patient on the south coast; “it is my duty to examine your boy’s wound. He may bleed to death if it is not done. Two or three of you must hold him.”