"Whom are you talking about?" asked the Major hoarsely.
"Young Johnson. He--"
"What about Jackanapes?"
"Don't you know? Sad business. Rode back for Johnson, and brought him in; but, monstrous ill-luck, hit as they rode. Left lung--"
"Will he recover?"
"No. Sad business."
"What a frame--what limbs--what health--and what good looks? Finest young fellow--"
"Where is he?"
"In his own tent," said the surgeon sadly.
The Major wheeled and left him.