“No news of relief?”
“Not the slightest. We seem to be quite forgotten out here in this corner.”
“Oh—no,” said Lennox; “we’re not forgotten. The country is so big, and our men are kept busy in other directions.”
He turned as he spoke to got into an easier position, and then winced, uttering an ejaculation indicating the pain he felt.
“Why didn’t you speak, and let me help you?” said Dickenson.
“Because I want to be independent. It was nothing. Only my neck; it’s awfully sore still.”
Dickenson winced now in turn. A chill ran through him, and his forehead contracted with pain; but Lennox did not grasp the feeling of horror and misery which ran through his friend.
“I shall be precious glad when it’s better,” continued Lennox. “Did I tell you how it got in this state?”
“No. Don’t talk about it,” said Dickenson shortly.
“Why not? I’m all right now. Have I been raving at all?”