"I can't. I'm an old trooper, I am!"
He stopped and tried to sit down. The whole column slowed down, much interested and amused.
"March up, confound you!"
The captain overtook us.
"What's up?"
My nerves were on edge. I don't know what put the whim into my head, but I gave a dry description of the scene at which I had assisted, the verdict given by the Medical Officer, and the man's recriminations, swearing that he would make a point of falling at the first shot.
Loriot was hugging himself and pretending to be in awful pain.
The captain did not pronounce an opinion.
"Stay with him, Sergeant; you will report him to the Medical Officer."
So we waited. Loriot sulking and livid with rage. I irritated at the thought that this task ought to have fallen to Playoust, the sergeant of the day.