I fired ... he stopped a moment. Had I hit him? A streak of light flashed out from his shadow, and a bullet hummed past my ear. Off he went again but, just as he was about to disappear behind a bush, I fired a second time. I thought I saw him fall among the brambles.
I arrived at Canny, where a red lantern shining through the darkness marked the entrance to the hospital. Wounded were stretched out in the porch, and the yard was full of them. The medical officers were hard at work in a veranda adjoining the main building. Through the multicoloured glass windows a diffused light filtered slowly, vaguely illuminating the men stretched on the straw. Now and again, when the door of the veranda opened, a rectangle of crude light spread along the ground, showing up a line of stretchers and the suffering faces of the severely wounded who were waiting for first aid. Two orderlies carried off the first stretcher of the row. The door swung to behind them and the yard was again plunged in a flickering half-light.
I stood there, very tired, looking stupidly at the scene. My hand was still bleeding, but only drop by drop now.
I asked a passing orderly:
"Do you know when they'll be able to dress my wound?"
"To-night. Lie down in the straw."
I lay down where I was. Suddenly I heard a voice, at once infantile and yet grave, in my ear:
"You wounded?" it said, with a strange accent.
I turned and found a tall negro lying by my side. I could see nothing of him but two shining eyes.