"Mother," he said. The voice was weak, but his eyes were clear.
She kissed him gently.
"Don't worry, old son." The doctor was beside him, raising his head ever so little.
"Take this, lad."
Dick drank obediently and lay without speaking while they busied themselves over him. When he spoke again his voice was steady, but his lips were grey with pain.
"What's up, father? Am I going to die?"
"Not you!" said the doctor hastily. The boy's glance went past him, to his father.
"Am I, father?"
"No, my son, I think not. But you're badly hurt. You have got to help us to get you better, Dick."
Dick pondered that, his fingers closed round his mother's. Then memory came back to him with a flash.