And then, soldier-like, he drew himself up as if standing to attention, turned, and went to his duty again, walking pretty steadily after Roby to join them where the sergeant was down on one knee with his hand thrust inside the corporal’s jacket.
“Heart’s beating off and on, sir,” growled James. “I don’t think he’s hurt. Seems to me like what the doctor called shock.”
“Yes. What did he say?”
“I dunno, sir. Sort of queer stuff: sounded like foolishness. I’m afraid he’s off his head.—Here, May—me, May, my lad. Hold up. You’re all right now.”
The man opened his eyes, stared at him wildly, and his lips quivered.
“What say?” he whispered.
“I say, hold up now.”
“Hurts,” moaned the poor fellow, beginning to rub his chest. “Have I been asleep?”
“I hope so, my lad,” said Roby, “for you have been saved a good deal if you have.”
“Ugh!” groaned the man, with a shiver. “Mind that light don’t go out. Here,” he cried fiercely, “what did you go and leave me for?”