“Thanks, old fellow,” said Lennox. “That has halved the risk. Perhaps the other fellow will think it too dangerous to stay.”
“Doesn’t seem like it,” said Dickenson, drawing in his breath sharply and clapping his left hand to his ear.
“Don’t say you’re hit, Bob!” cried Lennox in an agonised tone.
“All right; I won’t if you don’t want me to.”
“But are you?”
“I suppose so. There’s a bit taken out of my left ear, and I can feel something trickling down inside my collar.”
“Oh Bob, old fellow!” cried Lennox.
“Lie still, man! What are you going to do?”
“Bind up the place.”
“You won’t if you stir.”