'Anything important?'
'Yes.'
Alec's answer was so curt that it was impossible to question him further. He turned to Walker.
'How's the arm?'
'Oh, that's nothing. It's only a scratch.'
'You'd better not make too light of it. The smallest wound has a way of being troublesome in this country.'
'He'll be all right in a day or two,' said the doctor.
Alec sat down. For a minute he did not speak, but seemed plunged in thought. He passed his fingers through his beard, ragged now and longer than when he was in England.
'How are the others?' he asked suddenly, looking at Adamson.
'I don't think Thompson can last till the morning.'