“Tell me? Why, of course! Oh, I begin to understand now. Have I been off my head a bit?”
“Yes; you were very much upset when the French officer was with us, and fainted away.”
“Phee-ew!” whistled the boy softly. “Oh, it’s all coming back now. The French came, and knocked over that Spanish chap, and I thought that they were going to take me away and shoot me. Why, they didn’t, then! That’s all right. Yes, I remember now. My head was all in a muddledum. I got thinking I was never going to see you any more. When was it—just now?”
“No, Punch, it was two nights ago, and the doctor thought—”
“The doctor? Why, you have been my doctor. I say—”
“Don’t get excited. Lie quite still, and I will tell you.”
“Ah, do. I am all in a muddle still; only you might turn me round, so that I can look straight out of the door, and I could breathe the fresh air then. I am being quite stuffercated like this.”
“Yes, the hut is dreadfully hot,” said Pen with a sigh. “There are six other poor wounded fellows lying here.”
“Six other wounded fellows lying here! Whatcher talking about?”
“Only this, Punch,” said Pen, with his lips close to the boy’s ear. “You were carried to the little camp where those French came from that made us prisoners, and there you were put in an ambulance wagon with six more poor fellows, and the mules dragged us right away to a village where a detachment of the French army was in occupation. Do you understand?”