"I don't know. I don't think I can be," Harry replied, with the ghost of a smile. "Only I don't seem able to move my legs. As a matter of fact, I can't feel anything below my waist."
The Colonel had seen death too many times not to recognise it now in Harry's drawn face and clouding eyes. He took one of the boy's hands and held it, saying gently: "That's famous. We must get you to the rear as soon as these hordes of cavalry have drawn off."
"I'm so tired!" Harry said, with a long sigh. "Is George safe?"
"I hope so. I don't really know, old fellow."
"Give him my love, if you see him." He closed his eyes, but opened them again after a minute or two, and said: "It's awful, isn't it?"
"Yes. The worst fight I ever was in."
"Well, I'm glad I was in it, anyway. To tell you the truth, I haven't liked it as much as I thought I should. It's seeing one's friends go, one after the other, and being so hellish frightened oneself."
"I know."
"Do you think we can hold out, Charles?"
"Yes, of course we can, and we will."