I bowed, feeling as I did so that Billie had slipped her hand into mine.
"Great fight you made," he went on warmly. "Perfect shambles, outside the house as well as in. Nothing like it in my experience. I am Doctor McFarlan, Surgeon Medical Corps. Much hurt yourself?"
"Nothing serious, I think, Doctor. Shoulder and side pain some, but I want you to look at this fellow. He was my sergeant, and seems to be alive."
The shrewd gray eyes surveyed us quizzically.
"Exactly, I see," he replied. "Love and war--the old story. Ah! that brought a little red into your cheeks, my girl. Well, it's good for you. Which is the man?--this one? Here, Corporal, lift his head, and you, Jones, bring me the water; easy now."
I drew her closer to me, our eyes on the surgeon and Miles. The former worked with swift professionalism, forgetful of all else in his task, yet commenting audibly.
"Ah, a bad blow, a bad blow; however, skull intact; concussion merely. Bullet wound right chest--must probe for it later; right arm broken; not likely to see any more of this war. Live? Of course he'll live, so far as I can see. Tough as a knot--country stock, and that's the best kind; constitution pull him through. More water, Jones; that's it, my lad--yes, you're all right now, and among friends. Lift him up higher, Corporal. Do you begin to see things?--know that man over there?"
Miles looked at me dully, but slowly the light of returning intelligence came into his eyes.
"The lieutenant?" he asked weakly, "the lieutenant?"
"Yes, Sergeant," I replied eagerly, "we're both here, but we're about all there is left."