“Are your legs and wrists better now?”
“It’s my head that was the worst, sir,” was the reply.
“But you said that your legs and wrists were so cruelly tied up that the canes cut into your flesh.”
“Oh yes, sir; that was at first. But when that Frenchie came in he told the Malay chaps to untie ’em, so that I could wait upon you—and precious glad I was.”
“But how did you manage to see to give me the water?”
“I couldn’t in the night, sir; but I can now.—It’s no use to tell the poor chap that it’s quite light, for he’s all puzzled-like yet,” thought the private. Then aloud, “I’d just go to sleep a bit now, sir, if I was you.”
“What for?”
“Rest your head, sir. You will feel a deal better when you wake again, and perhaps see a bit clearer.”
“Perhaps you are right, Pete,” said Archie, with a sigh; “but I am better now. Most of the pain seems to be gone.”
“Good luck to you, sir! I wish mine had, for there are times when I seem as if I could not think straight.”