“Thet’s all right, pard. Yer on yer way back to camp, and Pete’s the boy thet’s takin’ ye; so jest rest easy-like. Cap, ride in an’ tell ’em we aire comin’.”
Tom spurred ahead, and by the time Pete and his burden rode in, the Overlanders were ready to receive them. All were pale, though Nora, who might have been expected to go to pieces, was calm, in fact fully as much so as Elfreda and Grace who, as hospital workers in the great war, were used to scenes of this sort.
Hippy’s face, as he was lifted from Two-gun Pete’s arms, was seen to be covered with blood.
“Place him by the fire where we can see,” directed Grace. “Stacy, fetch water, and be quick about it!”
“I’ll get my kit and be back in a moment,” announced Elfreda.
Blankets were spread out by the campfire, and on them the wounded Hippy was laid, and by the time Elfreda returned, Grace had sponged away the blood from his face and head.
“A bullet has laid his scalp open on the right side,” she announced. “If there are no other wounds he will pull through all right. Do you hear me, Hippy?”
“Ye—es.”
“Is this the only wound you have?”
“No. In leg,” answered the patient weakly.