“I—I feel fine.”
“Here,” he said, throwing out a blanket. “Lie down there. Here’s a roll for a pillow. Now! Let me have a look.”
Unbuttoning the blouse, he shoved it aside. “Shoulder,” he murmured. “Not so bad. How’s the bone?”
“How should I know? I—I’ll try to—”
“No, no don’t move. I’ll just fix it up a bit. I’m no doctor. Little first aid, that’s all. But boy! If it had been a little lower there’d have been a dead WAC.”
“And Jimmie Nightingale would have been in disgrace for letting a WAC get killed,” she said.
“Something like that.”
“But now he’ll get another medal,” she teased.
“And so will you, dam—I mean dum it. You’ll get it if I have to make it out of a coin I took from a dead Jap.
“And now,” he said as he finished his first aid, “I suggest that you relax and forget. There’ll be no more Japs on our trail.”