"You deserve a medal, Tubby; and we were just saying what a change there's been in you," Rob told him, causing a wan smile to flit across the wearied face of the fat scout.
"Yes," added Merritt readily, "to see the tender way you handled that German, hardly more than a boy himself, and who may never live to see his people again, anyone would have thought you had it in you to be a surgeon. Tubby, if I were you I'd pay more attention to such things. I honestly believe there's a streak of it in your blood."
"Well," Tubby remarked complacently, "we've had eminent doctors in our family; and my folks always said they hoped I'd take a fancy that way; but when I found how weak I was every time I saw a little blood, I gave up the idea. Now I've had my baptism on the battlefield, so mebbe I will change my mind. Even a soft-hearted fellow might make a good doctor, if he couldn't be a surgeon."
"Listen, there's someone calling to us!" exclaimed Merritt.
"And in German, too," added Rob. "Look all around, and see if you can find him. He must have recovered his senses after we passed by before."
"There's something moving under that pile of bodies," remarked Tubby with a shudder; "yes, and now you can see a hand waving to us. Oh! let's hurry and get the poor fellow out!"
The others were just as willing, and soon they had dragged a man out from the weight that had almost smothered him.
"He's pretty badly hurt, I reckon," remarked Rob, as he immediately stooped down over the Bavarian soldier, "but not fatally, I think. We'll do what we can for him here, and the next time men come along with a stretcher, we'll send him over to the field hospital."
The wounded German soldier had listened to them speaking.
"Are you American boys, then?" he asked, in excellent English.