'Not so fast!' a harsh voice interposed; and, looking up, I saw that the general himself was directing the party. 'Not so fast, my friend,' he repeated. 'Who is it?' and leaning forward in his saddle, he looked down at me.
'The Waldgrave Rupert,' I answered impatiently. 'He is hurt almost to death. But he is alive, and may live, your excellency. Only direct them to come quickly.'
Sitting on his horse in the full glare of the torches, he gazed down at me, his face wearing a strange expression of hesitation. 'He is alive?' he said at last.
'Yes, at present. But he will soon be dead if we do not go to him,' I retorted. 'This way! He lies yonder.'
'Lead on!' the general said.
I obeyed, and a moment brought our party to the spot, where the Waldgrave still lay insensible, his face pale and drawn, his eyes half open and disclosing the whites. Under the glare of the torches he looked so like a corpse and so far beyond aid, that it was not until I had again thrust my hand into his breast, and felt the movement of his heart that I was reassured.
As for the general, after looking down at him for awhile, he said quietly, 'He is dead.'
'Not so, your excellency,' I answered, rising briskly from my knees. 'He is stunned. That is all.'
'He is dead,' the general replied coldly. 'Leave him. We must help those first who need help.'
They were actually turning away. They had moved a couple of paces before I could believe it. Then I sprang to the general's rein.