Hal strode over to where the wounded man lay.
"Oh, it ain't nothing, Sarge," growled Private Danes disgustedly. "Just enough to give me a toothache in the hip."
Yet the poor fellow pointed to a bloodstained spot right over the center of the hip bone. Danes's left leg would never again be sound enough to march with his comrades. Perhaps the man realized it, but he was a soldier, and therefore made no fuss.
"You'll have to lie quiet, Danes," returned Sergeant Hal. "We'll get you out of this."
Just then Private Kelly raised his head for a look at the adjacent grove.
As he did so a shot rang out over in the grove and Kelly uttered an exclamation of disgust.
"Hit, Kelly?" queried Sergeant Hal, stepping over to him.
Private Kelly spat out two loose front teeth and some blood.
"Ye see what happened, Sarge," retorted Kelly. "It's a good thing the fellow drew a bead on me profile. But I ain't kicking at getting a dentist's services for nothing. No, that ain't my kick."
"What is wrong, then?" laughed Hal.