“Oh, doctor, must I leave him here?” he asked in a low tone.
Just then an orderly came running up to him, and, saluting, said:
“Sir, the Commanding Officer says you are to remain behind with your father—till—till—”
“Until you are sent for,” said the M. O. “I will see to that.”
“Where's the Commanding Officer?” cried Barry, starting forward.
“He has gone off somewheres, sir. He was sorry he couldn't come himself, but he was called away. He sent that message to you.”
“Doctor, will you remember to thank the Commanding Officer for me?” he said briefly, and turned to follow his father into the ambulance, which he discovered to be in charge of his friend, the sergeant of the R. A. M. C.
At the hospital he was received with every mark of solicitous care. He was made to feel that he was among friends.
“How long, doctor?” he asked, after the doctor had finished his examination.
“Not long, I'm afraid. A few hours, perhaps a day. He will not suffer though,” said the doctor. “But,” he added, taking Barry by the arm, “he is very weak, remember, and must not be excited.”