“How are ye?” asked the dragoon anxiously.
“Just a little hazy in the head,” answered Ethan, “but that will pass in a few hours.”
“Could ye stand a bit of news if it were broken to ye gently?”
“I think so.”
“Well, among those who were wounded in the fight last night was Siki.”
“Ah!”
“We have him here. We carried him on the same litter as yourself. He is willing to talk, so the captain says. They are only waiting for you.”
“Take me to him.”
Longsword promptly led the way into a room off that of Captain Jones’. They found that officer sitting at a table engaged in some correspondence; upon a couch was the lean form of the Lascar; his dark face was drawn with pain and his eyes roved about restlessly. Captain Jones sprang up as Ethan and the dragoon entered.
“I’m delighted,” he said, grasping the lad’s hand. “You seemed to be resting so easily during the night, though, that I felt sure you would be all right by morning.”