“His blouse is gone,” said Peter hastily. “I can manage for him.”
“Has he a fever?”
“I'm afraid so—a slight fever.”
The surgeon turned to the other cot. “Let this fellow sleep another day,” he said.
The soldier lying there gave Peter a look almost uncanny in its gratitude.
“Sit down, Samarc. I'll get you a blouse,” the latter said and left the ward.
Chapter 4
Big Belt awoke early in his own quarters, and beat around under the blankets for his friend. Peter was not there. Boylan remembered and sat up. This was the day of the great battle, but there was to be breakfast first. He recalled what was in the saddle-bags. This proved unsatisfactory. Even that hinged on Peter, as every thought so far. ... Boylan now reflected that he might have stayed longer in the ward last night. There was just as much to hold him to the cot of Samarc as had called Peter. Altogether, the day was not beginning in a way to suit.