“Do you wish me to tighten the bandage, captain? Let me have it for a moment.”
The captain gave him his left hand, and stretched out his right hand to help tie the knot; but scarcely had the little fellow risen from the pillow when he turned pale, and had to lie back again.
“Enough! enough!” said the captain, looking at him, and withdrawing his bandaged hand, which the drummer wished to retain. “Take care of yourself instead of thinking of others, for slight wounds, if neglected, may have grave consequences.”
The little drummer shook his head.
“But thou,” said the captain, looking attentively at him, “thou must have lost much blood to be so weak.”
“Lost much blood?” repeated the boy, smiling. “Something more than blood. Look!” and he threw down the coverlet The captain recoiled in horror.
The boy had but one leg; the left leg had been amputated above the knee. The stump was wrapped in bloody cloths.
Just then a small, fat army physician in shirt-sleeves passed.
“Ah, captain,” said he rapidly, pointing out the little drummer; “there is an unfortunate case. That leg could have been easily saved had he not forced it so much, caused inflammation; it was necessary to amputate it. But he is brave, I assure you. He shed not a tear, nor uttered a plaint. I was proud, while operating, to think he was an Italian boy, my word of honor. Faith, he comes of good stock.”
And he went on his way.