"But, sir—"
"Don't question my orders, Lieutenant," interrupted the Colonel, briefly.
"Flesh wound," Mackenzie said.
Later, when the dressing was done and Trevelyan was in the hospital, the surgeon looked down at him curiously. "Odd," he said, "that shot! I don't understand how—"
Trevelyan turned his drawn face to the surgeon's, meeting his eyes squarely.
"Confound you! You don't think I shot myself on purpose, do you?"
Mackenzie sat down on the edge of the bed, and rubbed his chin.
"Oh—of course, not," he said slowly.
An hour later he and Vaughan, the assistant surgeon, returned.
"Well, there goes the best officer in the service to his death," the younger man was saying, as he entered, and then as he met Trevelyan's wide, questioning eyes, he broke off.